


Drink Up The Sunrise

by guileheroine



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 23,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guileheroine/pseuds/guileheroine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A repository for tiny stories and tidbits, exercising both technical skills and nugget ideas/headcanons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cafune

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a collection of unrelated prompt fills, practices, warmups, tentative forays into smut and other difficult stuff etc - all Korrasami, and probably varying in quality. Enjoy! And please feel free to suggest prompts.

_**Cafuné** \- the act of running your fingers through someone's hair._

 

These days (and it’s only a few days, even when it feels like an age), it seems as if Asami’s followed through the hours by a cloud of weariness.

 

It’s been over a week since Hiroshi Sato died and Republic City was left in ruins. The cleanup efforts are, understandably, in a very preliminary stage. There’s nothing for Asami to dig her claws into; nothing to make but funeral arrangements (maybe), and to search out a building in the undestroyed part of the city to be the interim Future Industries base.

 

Not that her friends would let her leave the island, let alone leave for work, for longer than a day. Korra knows it’s no physical pressure that’s draining Asami, and she’s nearly sure that she hasn’t been sleeping.

 

And Korra knows enough about that not to fault her.

 

When she finds her in her new old room on Air Temple Island after what feels like the seventh meeting with Raiko in as many days, Asami’s haloed in fatigue.

 

“Hi,” Korra smiles, at the door. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

 

Asami raises her head. “Oh, hey.” Even her tiny, very not natural smile doesn't fail to make Korra’s chest tighten. “I was just trying to sort out this lease for one of those big government warehouses out by the mountains.” She gestures at the pile of papers in her lap and next to her on the bed, and it looks to Korra like a visual representation of the word _bureaucracy_. “See if I can convert it to another temporary office while we rebuild.” She lifts her pen to her mouth. “And you?”

 

Korra inclines her head to the side, as if to say, same old. She strides forward to perch on the free side of Asami’s bed before continuing. “Raiko says he doesn’t know if he should monitor Su’s involvement in the Kuvira case, but I told him it doesn’t really matter, she’ll be locked up for years either way. I mean, faith in the courts should hardly be the biggest issue on his plate."

 

Asami nods in acknowledgement, unable to reply as she stifles a yawn.

 

“You look like you could use a break,” Korra says, plain, and Asami concedes surprisingly easily.

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“It’s not anything - physical - is it? The trouble sleeping, I mean,” Korra tries, direct again. “Because there’s probably something that could help with that.”

 

Asami gives a noncommittal shrug and fumbles. “My head hurts a little. But I don’t know - not much really. You know. Stress, I guess.” _Grief_ , Korra reads.

 

Korra doesn’t have to rack her brain for it to alight on something appropriate. “Let me show you something, Asami,” she says. “One of the techniques Katara used to get me to relax. A massage; it’ll help you.”

 

Asami doesn't appear to have the energy to decline. 

 

Quickly, Korra helps her put the papers away. Then she pulls a pillow out for her, gesturing, “Lie on your back.” She twists her own body to get the position right. “Just - a little closer, yeah - so you’re in my reach.” She adjusts until Asami’s head on the pillow is in her lap. “Good. Comfortable?”

 

Asami nods into the pillow.

 

“I’m gonna take your hair out, okay?” Korra continues, pulling Asami’s hair out of its tie and then cleanly to one side so her neck and shoulders are uncovered.

 

She begins tracing and thumbing the planes of Asami’s shoulders with one hand, as best as she can remember in the patterns that she remembers. With the other she tugs gently on the long, silky hair close to her neck.

 

As Korra works, she makes an effort to not really look, even as her hands focus, because she doesn’t want her pulse to do something ridiculous with Asami this close and this still. It’s hard though, if only for the warmth of her skin and how pliant it feels under her fingers. She decides to continue talking, not merely for a distraction, but because she recalls how relaxing it felt when Katara or her mother paired these ministrations with small talk.

 

“It’s just gentle stuff, this,” she explains. “Not like therapy. Mental, really. Katara says it’s just good to have touch sometimes even if you’re not doing anything, uh, scientific with it...”

 

The movements of her hands shift gradually upwards. She senses that Asami responds best to touch against her hair; behind her ear and along her neck. So she pulls and holds at the soft strands, tucking and tugging, trying hard again not to think about how intimate this feels.

 

“Is this good?” She says, to check her voice.

 

Asami inclines her head in the affirmative before she’s finished the sentence. Her eyes are closed and her breath steady. She looks like she could fall asleep, and it’s a good thing. “Higher,” she says shortly, voice a shade from whisper.

 

Korra acquiesces, pushing her fingers up through the mass of hair to Asami’s temple. The wrinkle in Asami’s eyelids tells her she’s pressing them tighter, that it’s doing the job.

 

At some point, Korra stops trying to ignore the feeling this stirs. Besides, Asami’s too far gone to notice anything. She braves a glance down at her, at what she can see of her face, whilst her hands smooth back tendrils of black hair. Asami looks vulnerable, ever so soft -

 

And she’s asleep.

 

If it were anyone else in her lap, Korra would have stopped here.

 

But she doesn’t want to surrender the closeness that she feels yet. The way it feels to have Asami so near her, like she’s siphoning the comfort and care from her body. Because Korra’s hands are moving automatically. This is _her_ relaxation.

 


	2. Pledge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick conversation between Korra and Asami sometime after Korra's return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen people use TV Tropes as prompts and I really like it, and it's fun to see how you might get characters to come around to random tropes, particularly cliched cutesy ones like this, without straying too far out of character. Take this one with a pinch of salt! I used [this generator.](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/storygen.php)

_**Trope prompt:** [Fallback Marriage Pact](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FallbackMarriagePact)_

 

“So. Break any hearts while I was gone?” Korra tried to broach the topic with utmost nonchalance. She might have overdone it, though, because Asami didn’t even appear to catch the question.

 

“What?” Asami looked up sharply at her from the loveseat. She was sitting with some evening tea and a cozy looking shawl around her shoulders, leafing through the same magazine that Korra had found her with upon her return. It was all very domestic, and Asami’s apartment really was nice.

 

Korra pushed herself lightly onto the island separating the kitchen from the living space. Maximal nonchalance. “Like, have you dated anyone? Recently, I mean. Or thought about it...”

 

Asami didn’t take a moment to consider. “Oh. Uh, no. Not really.”

 

“Not really?”

 

She exhaled a tiny laugh. “I mean, not at all.” Looking very much like she wanted to look away.

 

Korra raised an eyebrow (not unkindly, she hoped.) “Not at _all_? In three _years_?”

 

This time, Asami did avert her gaze before answering. “No. Besides, I’d have told you. Written.”

 

“I guess,” Korra concurred. “I thought… Maybe you were just sparing me the details of anything like that. You know, so I wouldn’t feel left out.”

 

Asami closed the magazine, pressed her palm over the cover, and began to sound engaged at last. “You’d be feeling left out regardless, Korra. You were alone so long.” The care in her voice wrapped warm fingers around Korra’s heart. “I don’t think anything _I_ could say would have made too much of a difference given what you were going through.”

 

 _Well, you’re wrong about that_. “You’re right, I guess.” A pause, where Korra twisted her fingers through the handle of her mug. “But I still find that hard to believe.”

 

Asami giggled and arched a brow up playfully. “I’m not a heartbreaker.”

 

Korra rolled her eyes. “I know. That's not the best choice of words, fine. I mean,” she smiled, eyes widening, spirit for playful spirit. “You’re more of a heart-healer, to be honest.”

 

“Well, I haven’t healed any hearts, either!” Asami shook her head with the exclamation, mock exasperation drenching the words, but a very real colour creeping in her cheeks.

 

Korra was feeling characteristically obstinate, however, and beginning to enjoy herself. “It’s just that you’re kind of as eligible bachelorette as it gets, you know? Young, _prime_ dating age. You’re, um, super successful, and all that entails; friendly, really pretty - kind of perfect, obviously…” ( _Obviously_. She should really stop talking.) “What I’m getting at is: there’s probably no shortage of people who would date you.”

 

Asami looked at her like a blank page. A long moment belied nothing. Then: “Well. It’s just... not been on my radar.”

 

“Mm. That’s fair.” It was. Korra stared into her tea.

 

“Is it on yours?”

 

Her eyes snapped up. “What?”

 

“Dating. On you radar.” Asami said neutrally. “I figured maybe that’s why you were asking.”

 

Korra tucked her hair behind her ear, looking pointedly down again. “No. I’m in your boat.”

 

“Yeah.” Asami continued, seemingly on her own train of thought - Korra listened curiously. “I just don’t feel - any compulsion. About meeting someone, learning someone new…I don’t even know if I have the time.” She sighed, taking the magazine out of her lap. “I’m alright on my own.”

 

Korra watched her from behind her mug. “Not forever though, right?” Something about the resignation in Asami’s tone didn’t really agree with her. “Someone could still come along. Change your mind. And if - if _you_ change your mind…” Korra paused, a sudden small nervousness pooling in her stomach. _If you change your mind?_ Where was she going? “If you change your mind... there’s always Prince Wu.” She finished with her throat curiously dry.

 

Asami found it funny, though, even if she pretended not to. “I’d marry Mako before I married Wu.”

 

Korra scoffed, light again. “I think Wu would rather marry Mako, too, actually.”

 

They snickered, and then Asami turned to her. It was her turn to be inquisitive. “So why don’t _you_ want to date? If I’m eligible, whatever; you’re the _Avatar!_ ”

 

“Well, that’s kind of it.” Korra said. She felt a little hesitant, but Asami’s tone was immediately sympathetic.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m the Avatar. Which means…” Korra began. “Pretty unique as far as life experiences go. And responsibilities. It’s kind of what you said, actually, but switch compulsion out for...faith? Faith, I guess.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, a lot has happened in the last few years, obviously. To me, I mean. Avatar-related. I just don’t know if I could meet somebody - somebody new - and know...” she wondered how best to explain, careful not to meet Asami’s eyes as she spoke, “that they would ever really… understand. It’s hard to have faith that that will happen.”

 

“I don’t think you should give up on it, though," Asami said after a moment, as Korra chanced a glance up at her. “There’s no one that deserves to be happy more than you do. Not that you can’t be being single forever, but, you know...”

 

A surge of gratitude filtered through Korra and she brightened. “I feel the same way about you, Asami. And I _do_ think you’d be happier partnered off one day.” She shrugged at Asami’s questioning expression. “You have a lot to give. You’re a giver! You’d probably be, like, the best girlfriend ever.”

 

“If you say so.” A bashful laugh.

 

Korra returned the playful tone, legs swinging in front of the counter. “You’re _my_ favourite girlfriend, for what it’s worth.”

 

“Well, if what you fear is true, Korra,” Asami laughed again, before continuing breezily, “and none of your potential future dating ventures work out, you can come back and live here with me…”

 

Korra nodded. “And I know you get me. I’ll just marry you.” It was a joke, of course, but she would probably have been alright if it wasn’t.

 

Asami played along, easy. “Fine by me. If we’re both single in ten years, we can just marry each other.”

 

“Fine. Great!”

 

“We should save a date.”

 

More laughter.

 

“Really, though,” Korra said, sobering a little; semi-serious again. “I wouldn’t mind being single forever as long as I had people like you around.”

 

Asami responded readily, affectionately. “Well, you’d never be _alone_ , single or not.”  It was a genuine sentiment.

 

Korra thanked it with a genuine smile. “Nor would you be alone, Asami - nor _will_ you be. Not anymore.”

 

 

 


	3. Longhand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tiny ramble of a headcanon](http://guileheroine.tumblr.com/post/133745241543/headcanon-that-korra-loves-seeing-asamis)

 

> _I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become._

_\- Vita Sackville-West’s love letter to Virginia Woolf (Jan. 1927)_

 

Asami writes Korra notes sometimes - only a few words, usually. _Good morning!_ in the condensation on the bathroom mirror (complete with an impressively uniform heart-shape), when she knows Korra’s going in as soon as she’s out; _there are fresh moon peaches in the pantry,_ left on the kitchen counter when Korra drags herself out of bed and Asami’s already two hours at work; or simply, _love you,_ next to a hastily scribbled address or list or reminder, or whatever other detail Korra might require that she can’t deliver in person.

 

She probably wouldn’t understand the peculiarity of the sensation stirred whenever Korra comes upon these: a half second of full, deep warmth bumping up against something far more acute, something that feels a little wistful.

 

Asami on paper is dearly familiar.

 

-

 

Once, in the midst of the trying task of trying to account for all her stuff - what’s already at Asami’s (their) home, what’s still on Air Temple Island - Korra mentions offhand that she needs to “find your letters and make sure they’re somewhere safe.”

 

Asami's taken aback just a little. “You brought those back from the South?”

 

“Uh... yeah, a few of them,” Korra says, a faint abashment crossing her own features as she registers the tone of Asami’s voice. “I had a couple on the road with me. Before I came back to the city. Just ‘cause, you know…”

 

And she doesn’t need to finish, because Asami does know why by now. She still looks a little wide-eyed, though, making a sound somewhere between a ‘huh’ and something more tender, before leaning up from her seat for a moment to kiss Korra’s cheek.

 

-

 

Asami had known Korra for a year, for barely a year, before deciding to write her without fail (and hardly a word back) for the next three.

 

So the truth is, by the clean count of time, Asami on paper is her most constant companion.

 

She’s spent more of her life without Asami than without her letters, which is a strange thing to realize. It’s only natural that Korra knows the slant of her hand just as well as the sound of her voice.

 

-

 

It’s stranger to realize that the deeper Asami’s letters carved a space for her in Korra’s heart, the further Asami must have found herself from Korra.

 

“You know that I never didn’t write you back because I didn’t want to,” she can't help but tell her.

 

“I know, Korra. You said. You told me you tried, and you didn’t know what to say.” _That’s good enough for me_ , Asami’s expression seems to add. “And… you still have a stack of _my_ letters.” She smiles, mildly enchanted with the fact. “So I know you were at least reading them!”

 

Korra returns the smile and continues after a long moment. “I think… it was more like I knew what I wanted to say, just not how to say it. Or some of the things I wanted to say, at least. To you. Like, about you. You were so _you_ in your letters, but every time I wrote that I missed you, it just didn’t feel like that cut it, you know?” She looks down. “I... I actually wrote you more than what I sent you. Things I meant to send and just… backed out on. But there’s also, um - there’s stuff I wrote you knowing I wouldn’t _send_ it to you. And I ‘wrote’ to you a lot just in my head.”

 

Asami’s eyes are curious, and she says, “Me, too.”

 

-

 

Every once in a while, if she won’t see her for a few days, Asami writes Korra a letter again. For old times’ sake.

 

Korra keeps every one of them.

 

Sometimes the notes are just a supplement to a different gift - _these are your blue! I had to get them,_  with a bouquet of fresh flowers; _Jasmine Garden, 1 o’clock_ on the tag of the teabag of a quick morning brew when she's running too late for loose tea (which is, _meet me for lunch at the Jasmine Garden._ )

 

Korra keeps more of the scribbles and cards and minor love notes than she probably should, too.

 

-

 

“I love your handwriting.” Asami’s writing a shopping list, Korra’s peeling apples.

 

Asami doesn't look up. “Yeah, it’s really so useful just how fast I can write illegibly.”

 

Korra pushes a slice of apple into Asami’s mouth for the flippant response. “I _do_ , I do love it. This sounds stupid, but it makes me think of you.”

 

“Well - it is… my writing.” Asami raises her eyebrows, but she’s smiling.

 

Korra rolls her eyes. “I mean. I mean it makes me think of you more than you’d expect. Because that’s all I had of you for a long time, right? You on paper.” She feeds Asami another slice. “It takes me back. Your writing.”

 

“It makes you nostalgic?”

 

Korra thinks about the particular, peculiar feeling for a moment. Asami’s every letter peppering months and years with a burgeoning longing Korra couldn’t quite understand. Asami still on paper, the catalyst of that understanding, at last. The pages and pages of slick black script, determined to tether her, succeeding so well they almost pulled her back to Republic City (though Asami had no idea); pages recording a beautiful portrait of the only mind that saw her mind, a heart to lose her heart to (and Asami had no idea.)

  
“Yeah, kind of. I'm pretty sure I fell in love with you on paper.” Korra swaps the next slice out for a kiss.

 

 


	4. How You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra has a little chat with Kya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows right on from the first lil story in this series.

There’s a soft knock on the open door that eventually shakes Korra from her reverie. She glances down at Asami’s head, tucked snug as a bug in the pillow in her lap, before turning to the doorway.

 

It’s Kya, looking a little hesitant.

 

“Oh, hey. Come in,” Korra says, with a corresponding gesture of the head.

 

“Tenzin was looking for you,” Kya explains as she enters, causing Korra to raise her eyebrows, attentive. “I don’t think it’s that important, though,” she adds, giving Asami’s sleeping form a once-over. “He just wanted to know how the meeting went.”

 

She takes a seat on the chair by the door to the veranda of Asami’s room. “Are you hungry? I’m waiting for Jinora and Opal to get in, but Pema says you can eat with the other kids now if you want.”

 

Korra shakes her head. “Mom’s out, too. I’ll wait with you.” Her mother was taking Naga for a stroll around the island; her dad was, as far as she knew, telegraphing back to the South Pole - administrative business. Her parents had arrived in Republic City not two days ago, Kya and a few other folk with them on the ship. Korra knows Kya had been glad to see the back of the Southern Water Tribe again, even if she didn’t regret the time spent with her own mother.

 

“You must be happy to see Bumi and Tenzin still in one piece,” Korra offers.

 

“Well!” Kya replies, propping her feet up on the bed frame. “Don’t _tell_ them.” Korra smiles at her.

 

She likes Kya a lot. She remembers when she would come and sit in on some of her healing sessions with Katara. Kya was as friendly as she was funny, and those evenings always passed the quickest.

 

“Mom sends you her best, by the way,” Kya says, right on cue. “Though it doesn’t look like you need it. I heard you really showed that Kuvira.”

 

Korra beams at her. “Well, I wouldn’t be anywhere without your mom.”

 

Kya returns the smile. “But, really, Korra, you seem better beyond belief. I mean, you _look_ amazing, at least since I last saw you. And you can trust me,” she adds, laughing, “I make it my business to look at amazing women.”

 

That makes Korra laugh in earnest. “I’m flattered you think I measure up.”

 

They let a comfortable silence settle. Kya hums as she watches the sun set through the veranda. Once or twice, Asami shifts and (very cutely) makes a small sound in her sleep. Korra revels in the rosy glow slowly filtering in through the wooden blinds and the weight of her friend’s head in her lap, the easy cadence of her sleep-breathing. Presently, Kya gives a languid stretch and yawns, drawing Korra’s gaze.

 

“Still tired?” The days-long trip from the South Pole could be oddly wearying, even if it did mostly involve waiting around on a deck.

 

“Oh, we all are,” Kya replies mid-stretch. “But yes. Yes, I am. Though not as much as that one, apparently.”

 

“Oh,” Korra says, following Kya’s glance down at Asami. “Yeah. This one hasn’t gotten enough shuteye lately.”

 

She’s suddenly very conscious of her right hand still curled in Asami’s hair, and of how that sudden consciousness might be manifesting on her face. She doesn’t want to meet Kya’s eyes right now, but the only other option is continuing to look down at Asami, and that would fast be approaching staring.

 

So Korra bites her lip and looks up again, a little awkward, though if Kya’s detected anything off she doesn’t give it away. “I was actually just showing her a special good-night’s-sleep Katara massage,” says Korra, to fill the empty air.

 

“You definitely replicated it well enough,” Kya comments. “Not the water variant, I take it?”

 

“Huh? Oh, no,” Korra answers, “No water, I don't think she’d want that. Just something quick to help her relax.”

 

Kya nods. “My wife prefers them dry, too -” and Korra has to swallow the flutter that leaps in her throat at the mention, because there’s no way she’s trying to draw a parallel…? But Kya continues, breezy as ever. “If anything, just a bit of shea oil. The feel of chill water just isn’t the greatest when you’re trying to get somebody comfy, even if it’s being bent to soothe, don't you think? Though I suppose _you_ could warm it up if you wanted.”

 

“Is shea oil alright in hair?” Korra asks, but she’s stuck on trying to recall what she can of Kya’s wife. She knows that she has one, and that Kya had sailed out to see her a few times in those three years that Korra had been in the Southern Water Tribe with her.

 

“Oh, it’s great for hair,” Kya declares. “It’s a natural conditioner! Not that Nauja cares about _that_. She just likes the scent.”

 

Nauja. That was it. And the reason Kya didn’t live with her wife -

 

“She’s a merchant, you know, so she brings the oil back from the Fire Nation when she travels there. You can’t get it in the South, unfortunately, though they sell it here downtown.”

 

Korra gives a nod to say _I see_ , before adding, “She travels a lot, right? Your wife?”

 

“Mhm. She’s out at sea much more often than not. Point of the job. You’d think with all these gigantic new shipping companies it’d take the load off of independent carriers, but a lot of people still just feel safer with them. Small businesses mostly.” She yawns. “But, yeah, that’s Nauja’s scene. She’s been at it since before I met her.”

 

“It must be hard, though?” Korra ventures, a little tentative. She hopes she’s not overstepping her boundaries (social graces have never been her strong suit.) “Like, being away from each most of the time?”

 

Kya shrugs, and follows it with a kind smile. “We see each other just enough to stay interested,” she winks. “I definitely get that it’s not for most people, though.”

 

“No, it probably isn’t,” Korra laughs. “I couldn’t imagine not seeing my -” _My what?_ “I mean, if I was married - or if I did have, you know, someone like that, I’d probably be missing that person all the time when they were away,” she says, a little contemplative. And she doesn’t resist the thought of Asami when it worms into her mind. She hopes she’s not blushing. Korra tries for what feels like the twentieth time that evening not to look down in her lap, when Kya does it for her, and rather pointedly at that. Korra gives her a tiny, flustered smile when Kya looks up to her again from Asami.

 

“Well, that’s how you know!” Kya affirms at last, at once wistful and curiously knowing (and unfazed by what probably looks like the southern lights dancing on Korra’s cheeks.) “I only met my wife when she came to Harbor City on her ship, after I moved there to be with mom. They had to dock for a good few weeks for repairs - engine parts that needed to be shipped in. It was right after dad died, of course - I wasn't in the greatest place. But she took me out one day and then it was a week and then I was having my best couple of months in _years_.” Korra catches Kya's hand ghosting over the cool aquamarine set in the necklace at her throat. “But she went north again and didn’t come back down for a really long time - and it was those few years that told me all I needed to know.”

 

 “So now you only do a few _months_ apart?” Korra teases. She's never really seen Kya look  _soft_  before, but the smile on her face now warms her heart. Kya chuckles with her.

 

“It works _fine_! But that’s us. We’re free spirits. I wouldn’t wanna tie her down! I travelled the world, too, after I finished my training with mom - I know what the itch is like.”

 

"Did you travel as a healer?” Korra asks. She knows a fair amount about all of Aang’s children, but it’s never not cool to learn more about the family of her past life - how different each of the siblings are, and how they all come together. After all, they’re Aang’s legacy no less than she is, albeit in a very different way.

 

“Yup,” says Kya. “I mostly went around helping train folks - nobody like a waterbender to teach you the healing arts! But I learned a lot myself, as well, from physicians all over the place. Stuff we don’t even need in the Water Tribe. Good thing, too.” She turns suddenly sober eyes on Korra. “I studied toxicology somewhere near the Si Wong Desert. They really just need it for treating spider snake bites, but I never would have been able to help you as much as I did after Zaheer without that knowledge.”

 

And she did help, Korra muses. Before her rehabilitation with Katara in the Southern Water Tribe, in the earliest days of her affliction, it had been Kya who oversaw her medical care. “Well, then, I’m lucky,” she says, eyes expressive, “and so very grateful to you.”

 

Kya shrugs off her thanks. “It was hard, but we all would have done whatever possible to aid you. I don’t know how well you remember that time - if you even want to - but every one of us wanted to help you as best as we could with our abilities. You deserved it. I just happened to be best healer around.”

 

It’s affecting, even after all these years. Korra dips her head, suddenly moved, and swallows as she absently thumbs the strands of Asami’s hair still in her fingers. When she grazes her shoulder, Asami nudges down against her hand. Kya’s eyes are still on her, on them.

 

“And, you know,” Kya continues, “this one here was around even more days than I was. Didn’t leave your side, not if you didn’t want her to. She was very, very good to you.”

 

“I know,” Korra says, quiet. “I haven’t forgotten.” She sighs a little too deeply to be covert, and combs through the hair on Asami’s shoulder, just once, before lifting her eyes back up to Kya.

 

Kya smiles encouragingly. “Well, I’m glad she’s got you now. And I bet she is, too.”

 

“Yeah?” Korra laughs a bit, despite herself. “ _I’m_ the one glad to have  _her_ again.”

 

“Of course!" Kya insists. "But I have no doubt that the feeling’s mutual.” 

 

Korra stares fondly down, probably not for the last time, at Asami still curled against her crossed legs. "Then I'm taking your word for it."

  

 


	5. Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra and Asami taking very different approaches to getting ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a imagine-your-OTP-getting-ready-for-a-night-out tumblr post. Just fluffy fluff

 

“Korra? Come on…”

 

There’s only a hint of insistence in the words. Asami doesn’t even turn from the mirror to deliver them. Rather, she scans the dressing table in front of her quickly, selects her desired item, returns to her reflection and resumes her slow ritual. “Korra,” she almost singsongs again, eyes watching her own newly painted mouth as it coils around the name.

 

The pile of blanket on Asami’s bed mmphs. Asami dabs at her mouth one last time as she finally spins around, smiling at it. She turns another right angle to the full length mirror on the other side of her room, saying, “You’re going to make us late.”

 

“Good,” emits the pile, and shuffles, until Korra’s arms and head (planted in the mattress) pop into view. “I don’t want to go some presidential birthday party. I’ve seen enough of Raiko’s beautiful face this week.”

 

“Get up. I want to see _your_ beautiful face...” Asami says, not very convincingly, preoccupied by a loose thread at the side seam of her dress.

 

“You know I hate getting up in the morning,” Korra croaks.

 

“You haven’t even been asleep,” Asami counters lightly, unassertive. She snips off the offending thread. “And it’s nearly seven o’clock in the evening.” This is not a real appeal or attempt at persuasion on Asami’s part (yet); they’re speaking to hear the other speak. Asami lifts her hands and begins to slide out the pins placed in her hair to keep it out of her makeup’s way.

 

Meanwhile, Korra is stretching. Her limbs tangle in the bedclothes in such a way that Asami wants to crawl back in there with her, not that she’d ever admit it. When Korra speaks again, the subject has been changed. “What are you wearing?”

 

“Get up and see,” Asami pushes through the pin held between her teeth.

 

“I can see just fine -” Korra enunciates smugly and props herself on her elbows, finally raising her head. “...From right here.”

 

Asami plucks the pin out of her mouth, tastes the metal off her tongue and smiles into Korra’s eyes. She gestures down her black dress. Korra follows it all the way down the mermaid skirt, and then Asami twirls for the back. “What do you think?”

 

She’s treated with a sunbeam smile. “Asami, are you trying to impress someone?”

 

Asami means to flip her hair in response (suave) but somehow she ends up just tucking it behind her ear (bashful.) How funny to still feel so fluttery, when Korra hadn’t even paid her an explicit compliment. She sits down on the edge of the bed and combs her hand through her hair, trying to return it to its natural volume. Korra’s feet find and graze the small of her back.

 

“Do you know if we’ll get dinner? At the party.”

 

Asami pauses and turns slightly to clasp a hand around Korra’s ankles. “Not a sit-down meal, I don’t think so. But there will definitely be enough food, since that’s what you’re really asking. You hungry?”

 

Korra shakes her head. “Wondering.” She releases a yawn, languorous; the toes against the crook of Asami’s arm curl. “Let’s go and eat and then we can come home.” Korra smiles a little, sniffs and rubs her eyes. Graceful hands push back through her scalp, tilting her head up in the process - when Asami sees the hollow of her neck, she can practically smell it. Korra wiggles her back into the bed with a tiny groan and Asami finds herself gazing.

 

“Long week, no?” She says tenderly. Korra closes her eyes in reply. “Me, too.” Asami considers pressing a kiss down onto the leg against her side before she remembers she has lipstick on that she doesn’t want ruined. “The sooner we’re gone, the sooner we can be back. Let’s go, sweetheart.” She stays in her current position for a good minute, though, before getting up to find shoes.  

 

“So,” Korra says eventually, shifting onto her front again. “Do you think we should bring a gift?”

 

“Flowers and wine should be fine,” Asami supplies, tossing car keys, lipstick and wallet into a purse that matches her dress. “Though we’re not gonna have time to get any of that, at this rate,” she adds pointedly; and before she can say _get up_ one more time, Korra’s curling up and burrowing into the mattress again, Asami’s pillow muting a very long, very content noise.

 

A muffled, indulgent “Mmm, I just wanna live right here,” reaches her, and even with her back to her Asami takes a moment to appreciate Korra in _her_ bed, saying those words. “I think I should,” Korra continues playfully. “Asami. Am I pretty enough to be your trophy wife?”

 

Asami huffs a sigh laced with laughter and avails herself of the comment. “Well, I won’t know until you get dressed up.”

 

Korra laughs without reservation, the way she always does, and sits herself up at last. “I’ll get washed up. Where’s my stuff?” Asami gestures to the bag in the corner of the room. Korra practically leaps onto it before disappearing into the bathroom.

 

When she reemerges, she’s magnificent in floor-length periwinkle. Asami’s sat on the bed again, a jewelry box in her lap. Her eyes twinkle as she takes Korra in; the dress that flatters her perfect figure, the way its cool pale blue lies in complementary contrast to the glow of her skin.

 

“I just spent less time getting ready than you did whining at me about it,” Korra announces, as she takes a peek at herself in the mirror.

 

Asami rolls her eyes. “Well, some of us _don’t_ wake up perfect.”

 

Korra darts forward and kisses her, light and lightning-quick, before she can complain about the lipstick. Then she pulls her boots out from under the dressing table. Asami stops her halfway to the floor.

 

“Do me a favour before you put those on,” she murmurs, and holds her hands out once she has Korra’s attention with an earring in each palm. “Tell me which of these is nicer.”

 

“Silver,” says Korra, closing the fingers of Asami’s right hand over her palm.

 

Asami puts on the earrings and fiddles through the box again as Korra ties her boots up. “You want something?” She asks, predicting Korra’s reply of “I dunno - ring?” before it’s delivered. Korra hardly ever wears jewelry but she doesn’t mind things that don’t jangle.

 

A slate blue band catches Asami’s eye, one that will both fit Korra’s smaller hand and match her dress. She fishes it out of the small sea of metal and gestures for Korra to receive it, but rather than collecting it from her, Korra offers her hand palm-down.

 

Asami cocks her eyebrow, her mouth forming a ‘oh’ and then a smile up at her girlfriend. Korra blushes as Asami slides the ring onto her finger with deliberate care. She doesn't meet her eyes. They share a shy laugh then, because this feels a lot like something else, obviously, and that something doesn’t feel bad, doesn't feel untimely.

 

“Thank you,” Korra says very politely as Asami’s fingers slip off hers at last. “Now, we should really get going.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> accidental pseudomarriage in the comfort of your own bedroom :')


	6. Scintilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 700 words of sitting still to say happy holidays and thank you to anyone who has been kind enough to read and enjoy my stuff :)

In the flurry of shushes and glitter in the air from the party popper that Rohan has just let pop, Korra hardly realizes until after the fact that she’s been - gathered - into Asami’s lap. A minute ago the music had been loud, voices had been loud; then Varrick had shouted “Speech!” and the squeaks and twitters of it that echoed had rendered the guests quieter and quieter, and now it’s almost silent. Most revelers not seated at the moment of the abrupt announcement had perched onto the closest suitable surface, and for Korra that was (apparently) Asami, even though her own chair had been… well, it’s right _there,_  next to Asami.

 

Yet here she is.

 

To be fair, Asami had pulled her down pretty unexpectedly. Korra barely had the chance to turn to her in her mild disorientation - to slide a quick arm around her shoulders for balance and inhale the trace of wine between them, she couldn’t tell whose breath. A second longer and she’d have had enough time to be breathless. But then Varrick’s voice was blaring again, so they had turned their eyes that way, the weird little cord of tension snapping and evaporating before it had really formed.

 

Now both their eyes are on Varrick, though Asami’s warm hands are not on Varrick and, as a direct consequence, Korra’s mind is definitely not on Varrick. But she remembers to exhale. The expelled air stirs the hair against Asami’s cheek, they’re so close. Korra wonders where to put her unoccupied arm - on Asami’s shoulder with the other one, says her gut - but she settles for folding it across her own lap.

 

She can feel Asami’s breath on the space between her neck and shoulder. It’s warm. It skitters across her clavicle, over her skin and over her brain; through all the spaces in the fabric of her dress like a living thing. Asami remains stock still.

 

Then some tiny buzzing bug (there’s a lot of those on Air Temple Island) draws her attention away from the dais for the first time. When it touches down on Korra’s arm, Asami lifts her own from Korra’s waist momentarily and swats it away. Somehow the cool of her fingers leaves a fever behind.

 

Korra’s trying to refocus but she can feel each square inch that their bodies are touching like it’s an acre.

 

Asami scoffs at something Varrick has just said (she wouldn’t know what), and Korra’s stomach flip-flops when the sound mutates into a giggle. Asami’s arms tighten around her to offset the destabilizing vibration of her laughter. That laughter washes over Korra like music; quiet, like it’s just for her.

 

Eventually, the novelty of Varrick’s words (mostly about himself) begins to ease off. Korra can tell because Asami’s body feels a little less taut around her. Asami yawns and when Korra catches it in turn, Asami lets her head fall onto her shoulder for a second. Korra doesn’t swallow until she’s lifted it again, because she knows the action wouldn’t have been inconspicuous. Asami’s breathing slackens but her grip doesn’t.

 

Somewhere in the back of her hazy mind, Korra begins to hope that she’s not squishing Asami under her weight. But in that very  moment one of the hands grasped around her waist slides forward a little to rest on the crease of her hip. Then it moves further still, until Asami’s hand is clasping the inside of Korra’s wrist on her lap. The bangles on her own wrist dig against Korra’s thigh with perfect pressure. Korra presses herself together from hip to toe.

 

It’s always nice to have Asami close. It’s not always this _stimulating_ to have Asami close. Probably because Asami doesn’t usually hold you onto her very person in the plain sight of a party of fifty, like you’re some blushing, precious thing that no one could help but keep close. (Though Korra probably is - blushing, that is.) It feels a little like she’s making sure that she can make sure Korra’s there. _I’m just so happy you’re here now._

 

Well, Korra can absolutely relate. The next time Asami’s head dips into her shoulder, she allows both her arms to hold her back. Asami seems to understand it as a signal to keep her position.

 

For the only time in her life, Korra’s thankful for Varrick’s verbosity.

 

 


	7. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra and Asami try to cool off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's........................(sex) G to M real quick.

She can’t focus. It couldn’t be hotter if they were in the middle of the desert.

 

She can’t.

 

So Asami drops her book in her lap and, of course, the motion pushes air too warm across her torso. With a huff she sweeps her sweat-slicked hair into a ponytail and pulls it painfully tight. _There_. Oh, she misses the salt sea breeze of Republic City. The sultriest day of summer in the middle of Avatar Korra Park wouldn’t be like this, and here she is roasting inside the most swanky Ba Sing Se hotel money can book when it’s barely even spring.

 

As if the squeals of the cat owl apparently being strangled outside aren’t enough of an irritation, a fruit fly whirs past Asami’s ear. She clucks audibly and even in her frustration she knows it’s a small overreaction. In the same moment the motion of a thumb across the page she's trying to save leaves a stain. Perspiration. A sweat stain. It’s the last straw.

 

She tosses the book across the table in a brisk movement. She swears she sees it cut the air, it’s so muggy.

 

“Are you gonna stop fidgeting?" Korra says.

 

Korra, on the floor across from her. She’s sitting on a (probably ten thousand yuan) rug; stock still lotus _asana_ , like she’s making fun of Asami’s antsiness. Korra’s reading, too - they’re sitting in an oven and having fucking book club.

 

“Let’s take a bath,” Asami says.

 

Korra lifts her head, quick, and quirks an eyebrow, slow. “Let’s? Let us?”

 

“Yeah, me and you,” Asami says, turning her chair from the table so that her body is facing her. “How often do you have access to a five-person tub?”

 

“It’s more like two person,” Korra says sweetly, but her hand lets the book in it half close, a finger keeping place.

 

“Exactly.” The word lilts up like a request, _humor me, please._

 

“I’m reading,” Korra replies. How annoying.

 

Asami sighs, twists her hair into a bun and tucks it in place, because the ponytail scraping the back of her neck is also annoying. “What do I have to do to persuade you?”

 

“You look pretty like that,” Korra sidetracks, or...  or is that an answer to her question? Asami's not sure.

 

“I’ll look even better in the tub,” Asami tries, but her voice which only serves to heat the air comes out really, really flat, not kittenish. And she can’t even flip her damn hair. She’s ready to be brazen, _I_ _want_ _you_ _to_ _get_ _naked_ _with_ _me_ brazen, when Korra finally stretches her legs out onto the rug and puts her book down.

 

“Since you’re desperate, I’ll keep you company,” she says. “Go run your bath.”

 

Asami doesn’t need to be told twice. The moment she enters the bathroom it feels three months cooler, like stepping outside into winter after a week indoors. It’s not actually as large a room as she had initially expected but every inch of it is furnished, finished, plated, accented in the highest quality you-name-it. The tub is square, set like the inlaid wood in the doorframe behind her in a high dais at the end of the room. Asami makes short work of her skirt and blouse and underwear before running the bath cold - cool water, no… additives.

 

“Korra!” She calls and dunks her calves in. By the time Korra arrives, Asami’s in the water.

 

Korra takes off her quarter-lengths and sits on one corner of the bathtub edge, smiling.

 

Asami takes her by the ankles when she dips her legs in. “I’m going to paint your nails afterward. Pedicure.”

 

“Sure you are,” Korra says, twisting her feet out of her grip and using her legs to squeeze Asami gently on either side. It’s an affectionate gesture, but Asami’s sides are bare, skin is prickling, and she feels more than affection in return.

 

She puts her hands on Korra’s knees and massages her legs. They talk for a minute; _what were you reading - oh, that one’s good - did you like that restaurant yesterday - if it doesn’t get cooler I’m ordering in tonight._ But there’s a piece still not quite in place for Asami, who likes things in place.

 

“Aren’t you getting in?” She slides her hands over then under the tops of Korra’s calves, kissing where the left hand had been. She looks up through her lashes, another silent question, grazing the muscle under her thigh, then up until she’s holding her across her hipbones.

 

"I'm not sure you really persuaded me."

 

Ugh. Asami scoffs and splashes the bathwater at her - and Korra bends it right back. Damn it, Avatar reflexes. 

 

She kisses her again, making the squeeze of Korra's perfect calves a plea. "Please," she adds for good measure.

 

“I said I’d keep you company, didn’t say how,” Korra returns, and shifts her hips a little, pushing pressure back where Asami holds her.

 

“Oh, I thought -” Asami enunciates, hands back in the water in a flash, “since you took your pants off…”

 

“I didn’t want them to get wet,” says Korra matter-of-factly.

 

Asami puts her hands back on Korra’s hips, where they had been a moment ago. They’re dripping this time, though, and the water soaks through the fabric at the sides of Korra’s underwear. Korra squirms again. “But _these_ are wet now,” Asami says.  

 

“Take them off,” Korra says.

 

Asami complies, sharp on cue, and rolls the panties down from hip to toe - a smooth, long distance in a long, smooth motion. Her mouth replaces her hands on Korra’s hips. She kisses where her shirt ends at the bottom and then where her thigh ends at the top, nuzzling at the crease that divides her legs and abdomen. Korra shudders and suddenly both her hands are on Asami’s face, cupping, the same way that her legs had been on her sides.

 

She tilts Asami's face up. “So are you going to convince me to join you?” The words string a tease together but her voice makes it more like an appeal, a desperate one. Asami deposits a few more kisses; Korra tenses. “Asami?” The question wilts into a soft whine.

 

Asami doesn’t need telling twice. She begins in earnest then, presses her mouth into Korra, and doesn’t stop for breath; doesn’t stop for the heat (the heat, oppressive, that she doesn’t actually mind); doesn’t stop when Korra’s legs cross around her shoulders, cross and quiver and _hold_ to draw her deeper still. Korra moans; Asami moans - the taste and scent and sound and   _heat_ of her burns sweet. 

 

Only once does Asami relent, replacing her lips and tongue with the heel of hand for the second and a half it takes to ask, “Fingers?”; partners’ shorthand.

 

“Don’t, _shh_ \- Asami, don’t _stop_...”

 

Which doesn’t answer her question, but it’s a clear instruction, so she abides without question.

 

Korra’s hands, when they’re not braced against the tiles, graze Asami’s head, ears, hair - but her hair’s up today so Korra can only stroke and not tug, fingertips opening and closing against her scalp like clumsy kisses. Asami keeps tight the small of Korra’s back because her muscles are fluttering like she’d come apart if she didn’t - not that she doesn’t want Korra to come apart; she wants her to come apart and to hold her together as she does -

 

“ _Oh_ ," cries Korra, so coarse and _pretty_ the sound lands heavy in Asami’s own core - then Korra tenses as she comes, making such a deep, warm sound of her exhale. “Oh, _fuck_.”

 

Asami doesn’t stop clutching and doesn’t stop kissing until Korra’s pulling at her.

 

“Come here,” she says. “Asami, come here,” again, hard and gentle at once. Asami pushes her hands up along Korra as she rises, under her shirt - she tastes the tartness off her own lips before kissing her, moaning even though she’s still not the one being touched.

 

She yanks Korra’s shirt off and pulls her into the water. “ _You_ come _here_.” 

 

Korra doesn’t resist any longer.


	8. Sundown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami chills with Korra at another wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk what's this...i saw the setting very vividly and just dropped them in it

Fire Lord Izumi’s second son didn’t want to marry in the Fire Nation capital, but right by the sea, in the hometown of his now-bride. The midsummer celebration, though tempered by its more modest location, is still an event of imperial proportions, naturally incorporating the presence of any Avatars and company that happen to be near town. The admittedly large part of Asami that still loves the fairytale charm of a beach wedding is more than happy to tag along.

 

By the time the fifteenth song is floating across the lantern-, streamer- and flower-festooned courtyard from the ensemble upon the dais, Asami is leant quiet over the bar, quite far from the dancefloor. She folds her arms onto the warm wood, and head onto her arms, lulled by the music, clinking cinnabar nails against her drink. The twanging, romantic strain could be familiar; she imagines it’s reaching and rousing some buried part of her, a bloodline back, something more Fire Nation than she could reasonably, in reality, profess any insight or claim over. With her in a novel kind of way is the knowledge that from this very port town hailed the first of the colonists that were her ancestors. How interesting to be back, kind of. She lets her feet sway more than tap to the melody and watches.

 

On the bar’s other side, the long, lavish buffet continues to be methodically replenished. Smoke wilts towards her from the open grill, carrying back the aroma of the fried crab that Asami has probably had too much of. Her eyes follow the wisps of smoke over the short, winding stairway, carved rough as if by the wind’s own hand in the granite coastline, up to the band’s dais. Even at this hour, the hue of the sky seems to reflect the wedding colours - a swath of red-gold buffeted by ocean air; and the musicians thrum as one entity, with no less energy than they had begun the party with. Asami watches the sea breeze swirl in the violinist’s hair; drawn by her calm, composed beauty, the focus in her face. The Fire Nation could be cool.

 

A way below the band loiter the remaining dancers, with considerably less zeal than they had had ten songs ago, but drink-warm smiles all around. Like Asami a minute before, the guests are steadily peeling off; and for this song, it’s mostly those in pairs that stay on the floor, moving perhaps slower than the pace of the tune would dictate. Asami knows she’s far from the only one feeling tired, though the fizz of excitement that never quite leaves an event like this still permeates the fragrant air. She takes another warming sip as she looks over at none other than the fresh-faced, freshly-married Prince Eito, though he practically disappears when her eyes settle on the person in his arms.  

 

Korra all but tiptoes up at her _much_ taller dance partner, the light of good conversation in her eyes, somewhat lightlike herself in her cornsilk-coloured dress, though, really, she almost always appeared that way. The sight is almost dreamlike, softened by incense haze. Asami keeps her gaze as the song finishes and the conversation comes to a close, warm from the drink and the view. She watches Korra take her leave and scan immediately around, waiting until her eyes find Asami's own across the court, light _up_ (Asami smiles), and she begins to stride over.

 

“Danced out?” Asami says when Korra enters earshot. Korra grins back and hops onto the stool next to Asami’s, though not before bending the earth under it to push it closer to her.

 

“Not even close,” she says, leaning forward to sniff at Asami’s drink. “What is this?”

 

“Authentic fire whiskey,” Asami replies, nudging the glass towards her before gesturing back at the dancefloor. “So how come you’re not still up there?”

 

Korra’s mouth curves a smile against the glass as she takes a sip. “ _Because,_ ” she swallows, “Prince Eito was just telling me about _all his research_ with the Imperial Engineering Society and I thought it might interest you. I mean, as far as I knew, he was just a patron!”

 

“Oh, really?” Asami lifts her head from the bar, brow rising in curiosity. “I thought so, too. That’s kind of awesome. And new!” She laughs. “That one of these royals is a scientist and not just headed straight for the armed forces.”

 

“Right,” Korra affirms, looking beyond Asami momentarily when she sees the bartender finish with another guest. She lifts her hand to Asami’s shoulder, yet another flare of warmth to Asami’s already-warm body, and calls, “I’ll have what she’s having,” with a smile, turning back once her own glass of fire whiskey is promptly served. “It’s the Izumi touch, isn’t it?”

 

Asami catches her eye and chuckles again. “Yeah, let’s call it what it is.”

 

“Well, I like her style,” Korra says with an affected air, pursing her fingers around her glass formally, after another swig. “I think it’s having a wonderful effect on the youth of this country.”

 

Asami nods as she listens. “And, you know, yesterday at the Society’s conference, they were talking so much about outreach, into schools and colleges. Even, like, sending these kids on programs to the United Republic." She rubs her chin. "You’d think the Fire Nation would be at least as leading-edge as us when it comes to technology, but their expertise is still mostly military-” Asami drains the rest of her drink, pensive. When Korra follows suit, Asami wrinkles her nose. “Korra, no,” she frowns, “you’re a lightweight.”

 

Korra only licks her lips and shrugs in return, eliciting a resigned giggle. “Anyway,” Asami continues, “it’ll be amazing to have Future Industries partner with them and maybe sponsor some of those scholarships. We’re going _super_ global,” she smiles. She lays her head back onto her folded arms, closing her eyes. Korra smoothes a gentle palm over her hair. Somewhere far away, the music picks up again, a melody more fluid than the one before.

 

“Yeah,” Korra says softly, locking both arms around Asami’s waist for a moment. “Well. I don’t mind as long as _you_ stay right here.”

 

In response, Asami nods almost imperceptibly and yawns. The action draws Korra’s arms back to her, along with her lips; she kisses her cheek and then murmurs into it. “Hey, you’re tired, aren’t you?”

 

Asami sits up again and blinks, the thick-scented air that molds around her face immediately replacing the feel of her arm. Korra moves with her rather than releasing her hold. “Mm, I guess I am,” Asami sighs. “I was up pretty late last night.”

 

“On the phone, I know,” Korra supplies. “I wanted to go to bed with you.”

 

Asami gives her an apologetic smile. “I just want to make sure I don’t fall behind on anything important back home.”

 

Korra indicates her understanding with a nod and the squeeze of her eyelids, then removes her arms to fold them over the bar, mirroring Asami. “I know you can’t afford to,” she says. “Besides, you’ve always been like that! I remember being out of the city with you for the first time - around the Earth Kingdom, when we were looking for airbenders after Harmonic Convergence, right - and you’d call your company every day that we had signal.”

 

“That wasn't the first time, Korra!” Asami laughs, shaking her head. “The South Pole, remember? Though at _that_ point, my company really was all I could afford to think about…”

 

“Right, yeah!” Korra rolls her eyes at her own oversight, following with a small, flushed laugh. (Criminally cute, Asami thinks.)

 

She nudges Korra’s bare shoulder with her own. “You shouldn't have downed that fire whiskey.”

 

Korra more-than-nudges Asami back, and Asami laughs freely as she steadies herself with a hand on the edge of the counter, thrown not quite off balance.

 

Korra frowns. “See, that should have toppled you! Maybe you’re the one who needs to down a few _more!_ ”  

 

“I will, just for you,” Asami responds readily, playful, her lean back into Korra making a seamless pendulum swing. She pushes against the space where Korra’s hair is tucked behind her ear, melting her girlfriend’s mock-indignancy immediately into the warmest of smiles. “What would you like me to have?” ( _Me_ meaning _us_ , of course, because they both know that they both know Korra would partake of Asami’s choice.)

 

“The _awamori,_ ” Korra replies. “Straight. Well, on the rocks.”

 

Asami pulls herself back and raises her eyebrow. “Korra, I’ll have to carry you back inside.”

 

“I just want a bit,” Korra replies. “It’s for you! To wake you up,” she nods encouragingly, an earnest clasp on Asami’s forearm.

 

Asami concedes with a shrug, swiveling on her seat to fetch the bartender and obtain the agreed order.

 

“Anyway,” Korra continues when she returns her attention to her. “I was going to say that maybe I remembered you on _that_ trip ‘cause… well, I started really noticing you, then. That was around the time.” She looks down at her own fingers splayed on the wood, wearing the edge of a smile, and even through the swirly smoke air it nicks Asami’s heart.

 

“And what did you think?” She probes, taking a sip of the drink, and willing herself not to smile (or blush, except she can’t really help involuntary physiological reactions. So says her practical mind, though her impractical heart does no less than its best to ignore it.)

 

“I thought it was very responsible of you to call your company and check in with Republic City every day,” Korra says cordially, meeting her eyes. “Very, uh, conscientious. And kind of sweet, that you got all worried when you couldn’t.”

 

Almost demurely, Asami offers her the drink in her hand in response. “Like you said, I have to be,” she answers, dismisses the courtesy. “The only reason you’re not the one doing that is that you’d have every inch of the map to check up on.” She rests her head on her palm, lethargy swimming into her muscles again. “And you do a hell of a job keeping the whole damn world anyway.”

 

“Oh, shh. I bet you say that to all the Avatars.” Korra pushes Asami’s glass back to her and simultaneously maneuvers herself forward, leaning her head down on Asami’s shoulder. “Alright, city girl,” she sighs, and never finishes the sentence, losing her trail of thought to the balmy breeze...

 

The music decelerates to the gentlest tune yet, rippling through the court; it mixes with the smoke and perfume and salt and buzz in the air to make a surprisingly pleasant cocktail. Asami imagines the action of slipping her hand around Korra’s waist, as she sinks deeper into the near-sleep where imagination is hard to distinguish from reality. Further and further, until her head nods with a jerk onto Korra’s against her, and _that_ action causes Korra to look up again.

 

“Wanna leave?” She says, and yawns, her voice drawing Asami back into the real world.

 

“I thought you’d want another dance.” Asami catches the yawn.

 

They had danced together for a song or two when the sun had still been up, mingling and eating and drinking their way through the following few hours, but the truth was Asami was satisfied, because she had _watched_ Korra dance for a while longer.

 

“I know.” Korra yawns cutely again - Asami remembers that she wanted to put her arm around her. “I know, I did, but I think you’re rubbing off on me.”

 

The wording makes her snicker, and before she can stop herself (unfiltered, unfazed), Asami says, “I can if you really want.” And all of a sudden the prospect of turning in sounds nicer than ever.

 

“Smooth,” Korra bites away her embarrassed smile. It becomes thin and teasing as she pushes her chin forward. “It’s a shame I was already going to let you take me out of here.” She takes Asami by both hands and pulls her off the stool. “Come on. My pretty, witty city girl.”

 

“You know I actually did want to take you out,” Asami says as she finds her feet, leaning back against the bar once standing. “Like around this town. To dinner.”

 

“Oh. Why not tomorrow!” Korra chirps at the suggestion, as they scan for the bride or groom to take their leave. “Lunch date. Or breakfast, brunch, whatever.” When Asami _mms_ her agreement, Korra takes her arm, adding, “You spoil me, you know that?”

 

Asami rolls her eyes, before deciding to do one better. “Korra, spending quality time with you feels more like spoiling m-”

 

Korra anticipates the words before they’re done leaving her lips, cutting Asami off with a laugh and a “ _Shut_ up!”

 

“I’m serious!” Asami protests.

 

“Yeah?” Korra pulls her wrist, urging her into a walk.

 

“ _Yes._ ” 

 

“Then let’s _go_ already. Let’s go spend some quality time together.”

 


	9. Natural Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra and Asami evaluate appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just swee'ness

The afternoon sun blared on the bank, gentle waves lapping against the concrete pavement that curved and curbed the water. They had walked only a while from Asami’s parked car, following a driving lesson perhaps even slightly less successful than the last one, but the heat protracted the short stroll into something debilitating. It only served to agitate Korra’s mood further - yeah, they would leave for the Earth Kingdom with Tenzin tomorrow, fly away from this thankless city to someplace she could actually feel useful - but there was still a whole twenty-four hours left where she had little to do but sit and wring her hands, thanks to her _expulsion_ at the decree of President Raiko.

 

“Ugh,” she heard Asami say, and turned to her. She could see the tiny beads of sweat in her profile, shiny where her hand grazed her temple as she lifted it to shield her eyes from the sun. From there her gaze shifted ninety degrees to the succession of airy cafes and eateries that lined this part of the coast, far enough from the port to be alluring and close enough to be lively. “D’you think it’s too early to step in for lunch?”

 

“No,” Korra answered immediately, without a clue as to what time it was. She was happy to eat and happier to get inside, and that was all she cared about.

 

Asami, for her part, was in complete accordance. Once they had sat down inside The Salt Shaker,she peeled her jacket off with a mildly grossed out sound that rose into a giggle when Korra laughed at her. The sun still slanted through the wide glass window (the only seats free were those baking, naturally), but it was cooler indoors nonetheless. They ordered a jug of iced peach juice and a pan of the catch of the day between them. Then Asami reached for the newspaper folded next to the neat array of condiments on their table.

 

Korra caught the flash of her name in a heading and groaned. “Oh, no, Asami, put it away...”

 

“No, no, it’s good…” Asami said hurriedly, intent on the paper. But Korra watched her eyes scan line after line and droop with each one. “...To begin with,” she amended with a frown. “Basically, it’s great that you rescued that guy from the bridge but it’s really all your fault that he ended up there in the first place, along with everything else that’s also your fault.” Asami pouted, and made it look reassuring as only she could.

 

Korra folded her arms on the table and slumped over them. The new position and the renewed irritation made her conscious once again of how clammy she was. She smoothed her bangs across her forehead and Asami, in turn, swiped at her own cheek, frowning at the dampness. Korra watched her from her new proximity - the round wooden table was no wider than thirty inches in diameter and in her wilted pose she covered over half of them. She was close enough to distinguish the floral scent evaporating around Asami and the faint perspiration underneath it.

 

“I hope your makeup’s not going to run,” she said.

 

“It shouldn’t. It’s not cheap,” Asami laughed, then frowned, somewhat abashed: “It’s not running, is it?”

 

Korra sat up again, because it occurred to her that it might have been her close attention that unbalanced Asami. “Nope, I think it’s fine.”

 

Asami breathed and smiled again.  “Alright, good. Would be no fun to fix it in weather like this.” Their drink arrived, and Asami poured Korra a glass and herself a glass, sticking a drinking straw in both before training her eyes back on Korra.

 

“Whatever,” Korra smiled back, and surprised herself with how hard it was to resist smiling that smile. “I mean,” she paused before taking a sip, fingers delicate around her own straw, “it’s not like you can’t turn heads without it.”

 

Asami’s lips pursed immediately around the straw, her brow knitting as Korra’s rose. Korra continued before she could interrupt, hand closing around her own cup. “You know you turn heads, don’t you?”

 

“That’s...excessive,” Asami replied, her mouth releasing the straw and twisting around a faintly embarrassed smile. “I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Whatever,” repeated Korra. “You’re super pretty. I know you don’t need me to tell you that.” Asami rolled her eyes, but she was very red under the hand that now hovered around her mouth. Korra’s eyes danced; it was rare to see Asami like this, so bashfully discomposed - so much so that it actually surprised Korra a little, but that didn’t detract from her amusement at all. “Seriously,” she nodded earnestly. “Like, _so_ pretty, Asami. Ask anyone. Anyone would think so.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Asami huffed finally, as if the obvious fact Korra was stating was not fact at all. Then, stronger: “I guess I didn’t know that you thought so.”

 

Now Korra really was surprised. “What are you talking about? I mean, why?”

 

Asami shrugged, mostly recovered now that she’d been posed a more answerable question than _don’t you think you’re beautiful?_ , although the blush still lingered (no thanks, of course, to the heat.) “I don’t know. I’m not like you.” She met Korra’s eyes with what felt like some effort, drawing absent circles in the condensation on the jug with her finger.

 

Korra tilted her head, genuine curiosity washing out the surprise.

 

“You’re pretty in a better way. I mean, a different way to me,” Asami explained. “You’re just effortlessly beautiful, you know? You don’t need any of this.” She gestured to her person, and Korra took in the precise makeup, perfect hair and flawlessly tailored shirt, all things that (ridiculously naturally beautiful) Asami definitely need either.

 

So Korra said, “Neither do you, really.” Which was evasive, she knew, and she thought it was evidently her turn to fumble around the awkwardly, flatteringly unanswerable. Just as she felt a blush begin to creep across her neck, their dish arrived. Saved by the bream.

 

Korra tucked in, maybe even harder than she normally would have, because she was suddenly a little self-conscious and not least because Asami’s eyes returned to her almost immediately after she served herself.

 

“But it’s not just that, Korra,” Asami continued. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like - it’s like your beauty is innate. I might look pretty, but everything you do is pretty because it just comes from you.” She ended on a spirited note and nodded encouragingly, and then let slip a sweet little laugh.

 

This wasn’t fair, thought Korra. Her chest flared and her cheeks hurt from intensive smile-suppressing - and her heart beat very hard.

 

She bit her lip, eyes bright. “Uh,” she said faintly, “that’s…” and then she laughed and cheekily derailed, because they were the easiest things to do. “See, Asami, even what you _say_ is pretty.”

 

“It’s true!” Asami said, putting her fork down, and though she was smiling she looked a little uncertain, like she wasn’t sure anymore that she’d said the right thing. Which was wrong - she’d said an unbelievably sweet thing.

 

Korra knew it merited the right response. “Thanks,” she announced, watching her knife poke at a fishtail. “That’s a really nice thing to say.” And the truth was, Korra wanted to say it back, but she had a feeling Asami might not believe it. She glanced up again, feeling like she should reach up to her own face and unsmile her mouth herself, lest it get stuck that way. “It’s funny, you know. I used to feel kind of insecure around you.”

 

“Right,” Asami said. “I was the same.” And they both laughed at that.

 

“I always did like you, though,” Asami assured.

 

“Sure,” Korra retorted, though for some reason she believed it one hundred percent. “How do I know you’re not just buttering me up for another disaster run in your car?”

 

“Oh, please,” Asami scoffed over her glass. “Once a day is enough for both of us. Besides,” she said with an air of placidity, “I want you to learn to drive, not learn to hate driving.”

 

“Too late,” Korra grimaced, only half lying. Even the prospect of being hurtled around in Asami’s car didn’t seem so bad right now, if it meant they could stay out and hang out for a while longer. Happily, she recognized this feeling as a good mood, something she hadn’t experienced too much in the last couple of weeks.

 

“Is this gonna be enough?” Asami’s voice pierced her thoughts and Korra registered her gesturing across the table. “Or should we get dessert?”

 

“I think another glass of juice would suit me better,” Korra admitted, fanning her face.

 

Asami gave a slow nod before stopping short. “Actually -” she spared a glance through the window across the sparkling blue bay. “How does ice cream sound to you? There’s a great place right over where we parked. We could sit on the docks with it?”

 

Korra grinned. “Let’s do it.”

 


	10. Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami comes home to her favourite person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chillin...domestically... :-)

Asami hesitates, knuckles hovering for a second against the door - _will Korra be up? Well, if she is she can just surprise her, can't she?_ \- before turning her hand down into her purse for her keys. She extracts them from the sea of bits and bobs and more bits with practised fingers, and unlocks her apartment door, sliding in smoothly and closing it behind her, equally silent.

 

It's quiet inside, enough for Asami to hear her heart beat to the second hand of her wristwatch, but the signs and scent of life swarm her. There's a pot of something on the stove; and she can just discern the dishes she left in the sink yesterday morning sparkling from the reflection of the single lamp left on in her roomy, handsome kitchen-slash-dining-slash-living (slash-everything, really) area. Her comfiest purple cotton robe, the one Korra’s effectively stolen (“you have, like, ten, Asami, and this one suits me better”) lies draped over a chair. The air is cool and thin- too cool for her taste but probably just fine for Korra. A breeze wafts through the peek in the massive bay window that overlooks the city, carrying in with it the smell of night and the thick, musky candle on the sill, the only other source of light. There's a new little plant pot on there, too, of something bright that she can’t put a name to, and Asami assumes there's a story behind it.

 

She relieves herself of the small weight of her purse with a gentle pitch onto the coffee table. Then she leans against a leathery chair arm to pluck her shoes off. She needs a meal - the fifteen minute mid-afternoon, mid-conference tea only took her a couple of hours into her drive home, and since then hunger has been slowly gnawing at her composure. Asami rolls her neck and then cradles it, looking up, wondering where Korra is. She almost calls out for her but the low-lit, warm tranquility of the room isn’t worth disrupting.

 

So she patters her way into the bedroom, unbuttoning her jacket as she goes. Here’s another light on, but she’s not here either - and just as she calls “Korra?” the sound of the running shower filters into her consciousness.

 

“In here!” Says a muffled voice, when Asami’s already halfway to the bathroom door. Heat and humidity swamp her upon entering, as Korra continues from behind the curtain, “Hey! I was wondering if I would make it out before you arrived…”

 

Asami smiles wide, the natural effect of hearing her voice after however many hours. She walks to the mirror placed over the sink sculpted in the long marble counter that runs across the room’s one end. “I thought you might have gone to bed,” she continues at her reflection.

 

“I only just ate,” says Korra. “Have you eaten? I made you dinner, if you want it.”

 

Asami’s mind reels through _yes, please!_ , _thank you_ and _I love you_ before “I could eat an ostrich-horse,” exits her mouth.

 

“Well, I got you covered,” Korra singsongs under the chatter of the water. Asami meets it with a little sigh of a laugh as she unstraps her watch and unhooks her earrings, closing her hands over them on the cold marble. She unbraids her hair and tucks it behind her ears, examining the planes of her face in the mirror. The shower stops with a clack.

 

“So how was your corporate sleepover?” Korra says, and then, “Towel, please.”

 

“The _convention_ ,” Asami replies, as Korra’s hand materialises from behind the curtain to snatch the towel from hers, “was… productive. Exciting, actually! Aviation tech, it’s moving so fast. And I haven’t worked on anything like that in a while, though we still have pretty much the whole market, thanks to my dad’s work…”

 

“Those biplanes, right…” Korra’s eyebrows flash as her face finally emerges from behind the curtain - she hops from the shower straight onto the counter, perching by the sink in her towel, gleaming legs dangling off the edge. Asami instinctively leans up for an overdue kiss; practically automatic, though it would be wrong to call it perfunctory. Korra kisses her deeply, with her hands firm on Asami’s shoulders once they sweep her locks out of the way. Then she bumps her nose lightly against Asami’s brow, a paradoxically intimate signal for space. “Let me get my hair, I don’t wanna soak you.”

 

“I could probably actually use a shower,” Asami admits, as Korra bends the water out of her hair in elegant motions, little rivulets rushing towards her hand from between strands of brown.

 

Korra sprinkles Asami. “Well, you should have said that a minute ago! I’d have pulled you in. Freshen up.”

 

“Yes,” Asami says decidedly, removing two rings from her fingers (rust-resistant, they say, but you can never be too careful.) She pulls her hair back into a tight ponytail.

 

Korra tugs on it lightly. “Can I brush this out for you?”

 

“After I eat,” Asami says. She twists the faucet on and splashes her face gently, savouring the sharp of the cool water on skin and muscle dulled from hours on the road. Her fingers across her face wash most of her makeup away. She straightens and presses one of the fresh towels on the other side of the sink to her face, scrunching her eyes into it and reemerging feeling suddenly clearer.

 

“And you know, I really don’t get to do that stuff enough,” she says belatedly to the mirror.

 

“Mm?” Says Korra, fingers stopping halfway to a dainty little tub of moisturiser (some kind of nutty essence obtained at the recommendation of Kya, and Asami knows she’s going to enjoy smelling it off her for the rest of the night.)

 

“The convention,” Asami explains. “It was all real development, structure - like, _how can we use this research to optimize design?_ Nothing that you couldn’t directly link to the physical creation of some aeronautical prototype.”

 

“Right,” Korra replies. “No fluff.”

 

“No fluff,” echoes Asami with a smile. She turns to Korra fully and gingerly tucks the towel wrapped around her torso in, not that it needs retucking. The touch unfurls into a full-on embrace when Korra gives her a furrowed glance that says _why don’t you hug me properly?_ and of course, now that she has, she doesn’t want to let go - not after a whole thirty-six hours (and how on earth she ever managed thirty-six months seems more of a mystery than ever, as ever.)

 

Korra twirls Asami’s ponytail around her fist. The heat of her sigh skids across the top of Asami’s ear, and seems to trigger her mind to her next abrupt question. “How was _your_ day? And your yesterday.”

 

“Uh…pretty nice! I went to check out that new spirit colony up by the mountains with Jinora last night. It’s weird: I think that the energy might be kind of influencing the native vegetation - ‘cause it’s mostly wilds rather than _spirit_ spirits up there, you see. Anyway, even the _normal_ plants were glowing, sprouting things they shouldn’t be. We don’t think it’s anything to worry about, though. They let me bring a bit home, actually.”

 

So that’s what the pot on the window must be, Asami thinks. “Cool,” she says, and Korra continues, her voice vibrating against Asami’s head.

 

“Tests had to be run to be sure, obviously. We camped out for the night. It’s so clear up there, Asami. Perfect for meditating. And Jinora brought Pema’s food.”

 

Finally, with a (resounding smack of a) kiss on the cheek, Asami draws back. “You miss that, don’t you?” She folds in Korra’s towel affectionately, and this time it does need tucking.

 

Korra grimaces, not very serious. “Well, yeah. But I don’t really mind. I don’t mind cooking for _you_ ,” she adds, grasping across Asami’s waist.

 

It tickles and Asami pushes her hands away, giggling, and before she can find herself drawn back into Korra she says, “You should get dressed! I’m soliciting your company while I eat.”

 

“You, too,” Korra says, snapping the belt loop of Asami’s skirt. “Get out of this, get comfy…”

  
They both change into sleepwear. Asami eats, fights Korra for the purple robe (loses), plays simplified midnight Pai Sho (wins) and goes to bed very, very satisfied.

 


	11. Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra tries to ease Asami's mind.

The city came back together like a puzzle reassembled; not slow, necessarily, but suitably exact in the piece by piece of its eastward shift. At the fringes of it there were many elements still standing fine, such that the new sprawl could bleed into the old, but its heart, of course, needed fresh foundations. New downtown. New city hall. New office blocks.

 

A brand new midtown apartment, cool before the early morning mist.

 

In fact at this hour it was more like a new world altogether to Korra: the expanse of city utterly undisturbed below her an eerie comfort - the proof that it could ever be such a way.

 

Especially when damage spots harder to rework than the criss cross of apartment blocks still pulsed in the early hours and late, and every once in a while Asami still sat alone instead of sleeping.

 

At the window she had settled, absorbed by nothing, waiting by the lights for the perfect increment of dawn to switch them off. If that was the best external task she could find to keep her focus her right now, Korra couldn’t fault her. She had already made tea and the bed and drawn the curtains wide.

 

And it wouldn’t be right for Korra to offer alternatives when it was she that had insisted that she sit up with Asami, despite Asami’s feeble protest for privacy disguised as concern on Korra’s behalf.

 

Whatever. She was awake now. The least she could do was keep her favourite companion company. Korra looked down into her cup and wiped the liquid from its rim, her toes digging into the warm fabric of the couch.

 

The lights clicked off. With the motion a pale blue hue filled the room, and the mist bloomed clearer against the large windows. The shape of Asami was darker against them, cast delicate by the grey light. Chin tucked in a palm, eyes deep and at once blank. Hair in a sheet over one hunched shoulder.

 

“Hey,” Korra said, in the placid lilt for bad days. (And really, Asami was better at it than her.) “Hungry?”

 

Asami shook her head, but she thanked her with her eyes. Then she opened the closest window and Korra’s next idea swept in with the crisp morning air.

 

“Would you like to meditate with me?”

 

Asami raised the question in her eyes with her head. Korra knew she hadn’t tried it herself before, even though she sometimes watched. In fact, it was something of a personal ritual for Korra, observed before the rising sun on those mornings when she made it up early enough.

 

“I really wouldn’t mind. And if it could help you, then I’d love to show you.” Asami braced in her seat for a moment so Korra gestured her forward. “Come on. I think it might help you.”

 

They sat on the rug in front of the bay window, face to face, full lotus. Asami tucked her hair behind her ears, her signal for action, but Korra wanted to set the terms.

 

She had mirrored Korra perfectly, her face clean and empty, here in this clean and empty hour. The day before them was still far away, and they were far from everything except the other. There was nothing rarer, Korra realized, at least not in these last few months. Here was a precious space.

 

“I’m going to stay with you,” she explained. “We’re not going anywhere deep. I just want to… we can just be here with each other. Yeah?”

 

Asami smiled almost imperceptibly. Korra assumed she had read her thoughts.

 

She wondered briefly if she could teach Asami to meditate into the Spirit World with her, if that was even possible to just pick up for somebody that wasn’t already the bridge between the worlds, let alone a non-bender… Maybe it _could_ be possible, if they went together, if the Avatar herself _guided_ you, then...

 

“Oh,” she added softly, belatedly. “If you want you can also just try it yourself instead. And let me sit and guide you. Or not. I can shut up, too. I mean, it’s your call.”

 

“Together,” Asami said quietly.

 

“Right,” Korra smiled, and took both of her hands. They were cool and soft (moisturised to perfection; that was one more task that Asami could keep herself with.)

 

Korra looked into her eyes for a long moment. “We’re just gonna breathe,” she said gently. “Focus on your breath. Not _focus_ focus, just be aware…”

 

If only she could explain it better. She wished somebody with a little more experience were here, Tenzin perhaps; and then she quashed the notion immediately because whilst Tenzin may have been _her_ teacher, he was the furthest force from easy, and besides… Besides: there was no way Tenzin, or anyone else, could better help Asami. Because Asami liked her best.

 

And Korra appeared to be doing just fine.

 

The swell of their joined breath washed over her, just as Asami’s every gentle blink did.

 

Finally, Korra whispered, “If you like, you can close your eyes now.”

 

“I don’t - um, it helps,” Asami swallowed, barely audible, “it helps if I look at you.”

 

So Korra continued to look back. But her concentration wavered briefly at the words.

 

Somewhere, after their breath had molded into one, their hands did, too, and Asami blinked in perfect time with her. Then it was no effort at all for Korra to read the calm out of her face. First light danced on the window pane.

 

“Is there somewhere in particular that you… that you’re hurting?” She probed eventually.

 

Automatically Asami’s head dipped to her breast. Of course. Her heart twisted for things long out of reach and left itself aching.

 

“Mm… focus on it,” Korra continued. “Breathe on it.”

 

They did as one again - but there was nothing in Korra’s own chest to alleviate.

 

Then something somewhat unorthodox occurred to her. And she wagered she had grown enough of a knack (whether by choice or necessity or instinct) when it came to healing meditations to try it out.

 

“Keep breathing,” Korra instructed - as she lifted a hand out of Asami’s and placed it gently over her heart.

 

Inhale. Exhale.

 

Under her palm Asami was steady. She thought to ask if this helped at all and found she already knew the answer. Beside them the light changed, until Asami’s face was bathed in the burgeoning glow, bright enough to draw her blinks faster.

 

“In your own time, Asami,” Korra said, and in her own time, Asami’s hand came up to clasp Korra’s wrist against her chest.

 

“Okay.” Korra smiled, took her hands again. The pinprick of light in Asami’s eyes flowered with her smile. “A little better?”

 

Asami blinked softly. “Loads. Thank you.”

 

“Anytime,” Korra squeezed her fingers. “Now you can make me breakfast!”

 

The sunlight opened warm on their skin.

 


	12. Tempo Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten minutes with Asami on a nice morning. [Explicitish]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Not a new fic! Putting this here cause I don't think it's long enough to warrant its own post]
> 
> the first non g-rated thing i've ever written, lmk if it's...passable as erotic. It has been noted there's a dearth of female masturbation fic so... tada 
> 
> also: korra isn't here but korrasami's a thing

Beep-beep, beep-beep - bzzzzzzzzz!

 

Asami’s fingers scramble for the alarm clock and she chips berry-red nail polish on the metal point of its leg before managing to click the bell off. 9.30am. Late, late, late on any other day - in fact, she had expected to awaken earlier than that alarm this morning (she set it just in case). She must really have been worn out last night. A yawn. She thinks blearily back to yesterday as her eyes flutter open.

 

Three meetings without a break for tea and an hour-long transaction in the evening with the biggest motor retailer in Ba Sing Se. The latter had been important enough and difficult enough for her Director of Sales to conference her into the call, and she had struck a good, _great_ , deal. Big. And then there had been drinks in the bar across the street from the tower and another hour in the shop at home afterwards since Korra was at Air Temple Island for the night.

 

Really, she deserves a lie-in today, she thinks, revelling in the warmth of her bed. Korra would be here before noon, and they had nothing at all on their schedule apart from the easiest possible presidential gala in the evening (Buttercup Raiko’s birthday.) Just hanging out; the least concrete and most enticing of plans to Asami, perfect for a late summer day. Besides, she feels a little delicate. She turns her face into her pillow and rolls the joints of her ankles and toes in a subdued stretch. A tiny crack or two. Delicate how, though? She’s not quite sure...not awake enough to be sure, probably. Was it the alcohol? She hadn’t taken more than a couple of glasses, and it had been nothing out of the ordinary for her. Or it could be the opposite of an excess. Maybe she didn’t have enough water yesterday, or maybe she’s overdue for a shower. It is late. Is that what would make her feel a little clearer?

 

Sunlight flares intermittently through the open window onto the bed, when the breeze is healthy enough to push the curtains aside for a moment. A longer, stronger stretch. The breeze skims low across her abdomen, enough to make her shiver.

 

She grabs the waist of her shorts and tugs upward gently - there’s nothing underneath, so she feels a little naked. They’re loose enough to have slid down a little in the night. (Is she wearing something of Korra’s? She doesn’t remember preparing for bed, though she must have because she can't sense make-up on her face, and she can always tell.) She leaves her hands against her hipbones for a moment before pushing them up over her t-shirt, against her chest up to the base of her neck, and rolling onto her side again.

 

Bones sink warm into the bed with every little shift. It makes her skin prickle pleasantly, comfortably, even as she’s half-drowsing again. It feels nice. Hm, what else? The glide of her breast against the firmness of the mattress as she turns is good - unexpected, _really_ good, it makes a good idea swim together in her sluggish brain. As soon as her hands learn it from her head, they’re travelling back to the shorts.

 

Wait, not quite. One hand comes back to her chest, touches more deliberately this time. Soft then solid - solid through the scratch of her shirt - _mmm,_ a silent sigh in time with the involuntary squeeze of her legs - until there’s nothing for the other hand to do but slip under the hem of the small, loose leg of her shorts. The warm clasp of her hand against the crease of her inner thigh is worth taking a moment to relish. She feels like feeling single-minded though: she doesn’t hold long before dragging the palm, hard and flat, over herself, twice and thrice over the fabric. Oh, over or under these? Not too gently, she clutches at the waistband and tugs, letting the pressure provoke her urge, hips tensed forward. _Over_ , she thinks, over if the friction won’t start to hurt, and - quickly she reaches to the empty side of the bed and grabs a pillow, pulling it back against the bundling heat at the apex of her thighs in the same motion as before, holding it, so that she isn’t squirming against thin air. That’s another good idea - oh…

 

The stimulation is broad, almost basic in nature, but it’s as good as direct contact when she’s only so far from sleep (her eyes had hardly opened.) And certainly easier. She can press heavier on her clit this way, and she revels in weight in her listless state, the edgeless weight of her whole body pushing against the mattress and the edgeless weight bearing down on the sensitive spot between her thighs. Increasing pressure and motion, incrementally, incrementally, but exponentially, until her hips swivel of their own accord. A well-oiled machine. Her breath hums.

 

The breeze returns with another stream of sunlight. In a flash she rucks her shirt up over her breasts, allowing the cool air to tease them for her. Her nipples stiffen (automatic, which makes her feel wanton) - a hiss - Asami grinds harder against the pillow clutched in her fisted hand. She arches up, breath coming faster. Heat flushes her skin and she nudges her comforter off from where it still shrouds part of her lower half. She’s uncovered, undulating. What would it look like if somebody walked in at this moment?

 

She’s alone at home, of course, but the thought galvanizes her and she clenches, toes curling. What would Korra do if she strutted in right now, found her girlfriend like this - breasts out, taut, writhing? Would she be surprised, embarrassed - would she laugh? Would she fuck her? Asami rolls her hips and lets her upper arms squeeze her chest together. Uh, or maybe she’d watch, let Asami make a luscious mess of herself in front of her. Have her fill like that, maybe, and not help, and touch herself instead as she observes. The notion of being displayed that way is dirty and even as it makes Asami blush it makes her quiver and moan and strain.

 

She can be quiet on her own, silent right until the end if she wants. And paradoxically, given the excitement of her body, she feels almost too focused on her desire to vocalize anything. Her free hand slides absently up from her abdomen to her parted mouth, so she licks and sucks, almost languid, and that feels hot, makes her feel so hot she bucks harder and swipes slick fingers back over her breasts. She won’t touch, won’t disrupt the pump of her hips, but she can feel the dampness pooled in her shorts, feel how it’s leached against her thigh (well, Korra’s shorts - she nearly whimpers at the idea, the thought of rubbing herself off through Korra’s clothes, soaking them, helpless in her lust and shameless.)

 

Dimly, she searches for something of a proper vision or an image to cling on to, to help her, something earthy, sweet, really lewd - but her mind’s a haze, too fixated on sensation. And it’s enough; because it’s a lazy, blunt, easy kind of desire, nothing but the fervid, adamant slide and swelter of her own skin, hand pushing the pillow tighter than she would have thought possible in a less desperate state as she squeezes and thrusts against it, no fantasy, nothing louder than low gasps (no fingers even!) The grind of her hips is enough, the feel of spilling into clothes not her own…

 

Asami uncoils with that last thought. She convulses, hips lifting off the bed and tensing and jerking forward in a rippling release, tearing the first truly audible whimper from her. Fire pulsing hard through her limbs. Little stars falling behind her eyes to match. She tosses the pillow away before clutching hard at the sheets with both hands, bringing herself down with heavy breaths, a tiny, indulgent moan on each exhale. All the while, her thighs are pressed together, keen on feeling the dwindling throb between her legs until her muscles have to relax.

 

She opens her eyes. Thumbs her chest, cold from the air, and tugs her shirt down.

 

Okay. Shower. She sits up and pulls off the shorts (she should wash those, really, and even then the idea of giving them back causes her to flush.) Shower, then tea. A mug of tea to complement some light reading on the veranda, since it's so sunny, and hopefully Korra would pop in sometime soon. They had a whole day to waste, after all.

 


	13. Giveaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra has a trying conversation with her mom.

The door shuts on Asami's back with a click, and as soon as she's out of view Korra turns herself back into the room urgently.

 

“Mom? A hand?”

 

She scrambles at the back of her dress with an awkwardly twisted wrist, the far greater share of her effort in the impatient glare directed at her bed.

 

Her mother doesn’t look up from her grey heeled boots. “Just a second, Korra,” she gives the laces their final pull - then no sooner than Korra’s opened her mouth, “and no, you’re not going to be late…” She throws a vaguely resigned glance across the recently vacated bed, the covers in a untidy heap, hastily discarded day clothes strewn over them.

 

Korra presses her lips back together and rolls her eyes. “Everyone’s already here. You have to do my hair.”

 

“Not everyone,” her mom tsks, striding over at last. “Not even the bride and groom, for one.” She fixes Korra’s dress with nimble fingers and gives her back a gentle nudge, urging her into the seat before the vanity mirror.

 

“Well, they're _supposed_ to make an entrance,” Korra says, wondering whether Varrick and Zhu Li’s entrance would be by speedboat, fighter plane or something she had never seen before; and seeing, in her mind’s eye, Asami's probable subsequent little eye roll, too polite even to scoff out loud.

 

She trains her eyes on her reflection. “Sorry I was snoozing.”

 

“Don’t apologize, honey,” says her mother, an ever-astonishing warmth in her voice for such a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re worn out, nobody would blame you if you slept for a year.” Her hands smooth over Korra’s shoulders on either side. “You picked a pretty dress.”

 

“Asami likes it,” Korra says, inexplicably. After all, Asami had said so right in front of her mom, and mere moments ago.

 

“Right,” Senna says. Korra waits for the delicate charge in the air to dissipate. “Well,” her mom continues after a moment. “It’s nice of her to get here early and help the acolytes out.” It’s an awkward segue, but Korra feels grateful for the subtle change in subject.

 

She squanders it immediately, of course.

 

“She’s like that. Punctual. And very kind…” She purses her lips with an effort. Why is she doing that? Extolling Asami’s (many) qualities all but unprompted, easy as the comb moving through her hair.

 

Her mom doesn’t answer, so naturally she digs herself deeper, finding it preferable to the silence. She’s not quick enough to pull the wistful breath out from under her words before they leave her mouth. “She looks so nice today, doesn’t she?”

 

Korra receives a rather affectionate sweep of the comb in reply. “But so do you. You really do, Korra.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t -” Korra begins, meeting her mom’s eyes in the mirror but not meaning to, “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean. I’m not jealous or anything. I’m just…” Saying _?_

 

“I know.” Senna says knowingly. “I’m just checking.”

 

She sounds like she’s had a conclusive assessment. Korra lets out an embarrassed laugh and prepares to wait an intolerable length of time.

 

Again, her mother spares her relatively soon. “Though I don’t know what I’m going to do with this…” She lifts a silky lock of Korra’s hair. “It’s so short.”

 

“It’s not too short to put up, mom,” Korra leaps into the opportunity to protest (though, of course, she’d never said it was.) “And I really like it like this...”

 

“Mm. It is very nice.” The return of the comb signals her mother’s acquiescence. “Guess Asami likes this, too, huh?”

 

The coincidence of Korra’s reflexive eye roll and reflexive heart flutter produces a sensation too peculiar to forget, so she forgets about forgetting this prying encounter. She wonders rather how her mom can make such an interrogation seem like an earnest shower of motherly platitudes. She keeps getting caught unawares.

 

“Actually, she does like it,” Korra smiles, because not replying would make it worse.

 

“She wouldn’t if she was tasked with this,” Senna sighs, sliding a pin right against Korra’s scalp. She tuts and pulls it back out, and Korra winces. “You want anything else? Eyes? Lipstick?”

 

“No. I’ll probably drink it off.”

 

The sweetness of her mother’s voice contrasts sharply with a tight tug of Korra’s hair. “All the better. You’re beautiful.”

 

“Courtesy of you.” Korra blinks at her reflection, a slight smile taking shape as her hair does the same.

 

She doesn’t get that one very often. Not unless she counts her parents, but she isn’t sure she should considering that they were happy to tell her that in the wake of the Red Lotus, when she most certainly didn’t feel or look anything close to beautiful. But it was them and Asami, mostly. Loftier people went for stronger sentiments, like brave and smart and, well, strong; but there was a terrifically soft pleasure in hearing _beautiful_ from an earnest mouth.

 

It wasn’t even that Asami mentioned it very much, or even that Korra remembered when she did (though she did, like pinpricks of warmth in the steady playout of their time together: in the car last week, in the old airship, in another lifetime sweating inhibitions out by the bay, the first time it was ever only the two of them). It was more that she felt it - when Asami looked at her with eyes bright and the whole of her heart in them.

 

“Oh, and yeah,” Korra smirks at her mom in the mirror, ready to do her one better at her annoying little game. She's going to steal her tease with perfect ease. “Asami does think so, too.”

 

“Oh. Is that… Does she now?” Her mother says, changes her tack too slowly to hide the fact that she’s caught off guard. “And how’d you fish that out of her?”

 

“I told you,” Korra says cleanly, desperate not to give her embarrassment away. “She’s very kind.”

 

Her mother is equally determined not to lose. “Oh, so it was a kindness?”

 

“No! Ugh.” She has to laugh now. “No,” Korra repeats, once the pain of another pin has passed, and leaves it there. She breathes the red out of her face.

 

“Well, I hope that didn’t make you complacent,” her mom badgers, relentless, “neglecting to dress up for a wedding.”

 

“Maybe weddings aren’t my thing,” Korra retorts, staunch. Their eyes meet again, mischief glittering in both pairs.

 

Her mother smiles, giving the ends of her hair a playful pull. “Maybe. Gonna show up this late when you marry Asami?”

 

Korra’s jaw drops. “ _Mom !_ That’s…!” The indignance and the insistent flutter that says too much mix up and well up in an exhilarated huff. “ _Mom …_ ”

 

Her mom’s silvery laugh emanates as Korra shakes her head, pressing her fingers over her mouth. “Oh, relax, honey,” she straightens the sleeves of Korra’s dress one more time, and laughs again.

 

Korra does, too, with most of her face still in her palms.

 

A hand brushing farther down her arm takes her attention. “Well, I’m done here, you know. Though I wonder if I’ve undone more than I’ve done.” She gives Korra’s face another fond take through the mirror.

 

“Right. Thank you,” Korra says rather dryly. She shakes her head one last time.

 

Before she can decide whether something of an explanation is merited, or even whether to remove herself with dignity or simply scurry out as fast as possible, another hand on her shoulder stops her. She glances up to her mother in the mirror momentarily, before the suggestion in her eyes makes her gaze flicker  back down.

 

“I saw you, you know,” she says, and Korra looks up again out of curiosity. “When she came in. I saw her, but I saw you. Actually, I think that woke you up better than anything.”

 

Korra rolls her eyes and averts them at once, but, as ever, she can’t help her stupid face.

 

“Yes, she looked very nice. But, you know…” Korra feels a squeeze on her shoulder. “It’s a small wonder she thinks you’re pretty, when you look like that around her.”

 

Korra swallows. If that isn’t the most embarrassingly invigorating thing to hear.

 

She laughs again and grimaces at her, not unhappy. “Um. What do you need me to say?”

 

“Nothing! Not my business!” Her mom lifts up her hands in defence briefly, but there’s a pregnant pause in the wake of her words.

 

“Fine,” Korra concedes, “what do you _want_ me to say?”

 

Her mom’s smile widens, though her words are lighter. “I mean, I just want to know… For how long?”

 

Korra shrugs, unsure how her long-kept thoughts will sound out loud. “I - I don’t know. Longer than I knew?”

 

She can see her mom trying to keep her questions in. “Must be a little scary,” she nods, eyes wide. Then she softens a little. “Just be careful, okay?”

 

“It’s not,” Korra says, suddenly ill at ease. “It’s not, um, scary. You know what Asami’s like -” A weird finality blooms in her chest when she says her name now. “She’s not… you _know_ how she is to me. She’s my friend. And she would never hurt me.”

 

Korra exhales and Senna’s head inclines subtly in understanding.

 

“Do you love her?”

 

Damn it.

 

Well. She minds the question, but she doesn’t mind it - not how she doesn’t hear _do you think_ like she somehow imagined she would, how it tapers gently instead of rising to show it’s her choice to answer.

 

She decides she’ll let her face answer, if it's so inclined.

 

“Ooo-kay,” Korra says. “Now who’s making us late?”

 

 


	14. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody's being fair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> キスキス [explicitish]

“Come on,” her lunch date says, in a voice a made irresistible by its edge, fingers fast, sliding deep and not deep enough with every keen thrust.

 

Asami presses her eyelids shut in response, matching the motion as far as the trappings of her skirt will allow. Urgency pounds an erratic beat through her limbs and she clutches hard at the armrest to focus her mind on the sensation between her legs, where it matters. _Oh._

 

A whimper escapes through her tense lips, the sound of her own desire spurring her further and further. _Almost, almost._ Her eyes flutter open onto her tormentor.

 

“You’re _gorgeous,"_  punctuated by a curl of slick fingers; “you look so good,” punctuated by the pull and light snap of a garter belt. (Which is true. Asami looks her business best, if she doesn’t feel it at this moment.)

 

“Come on,” she hears again, sharp then slow and soft. Driving in perfect pace with those fingers. “Sweet girl. Come on.” In such a paradoxically patient tone.

 

“I… oh,” she manages to breathe, at the point of an otherwise breathless laugh that makes them both smile, one delirious, trembling and the other wicked. “I _am,_ okay…”

 

The other hand, on the underside of her stockinged knee, squeezes hard in time with the words, then strokes feather-light. The exquisite contrast of the fingers and the hand pull Asami to the edge; she sucks her teeth in, rigid.

 

Then the following rush of air, blown deliberate across her open, sensitive chest, tips her over it.

 

She draws forward on a tight inhale, pushing against the carpet hard enough to make her covered toes burn - and _wow_. Her hands grip and bear down impossibly hard on the chair, the equal and opposite reaction of her hips lifting off it as she comes. Admirably quiet - blind energy redirected into a deep shudder and the clench of her white knuckles - one track mind and body concentrated on the explosive sensation. At least she’s concentrating on something.  

 

The fingers still but they stay in place, so that Asami is pressing them slippery between herself; until finally she breathes again, and for some reason, she breathes, “Thank you.”

 

“Thanks,” she repeats after a second, laughing. She closes her own wavering hands over the pair smoothing her skirt back down before lifting one to her lips. “For lunch.”

 

“My pleasure,” Korra says, giving her chin a playful tap before she draws away.

 

Asami laughs again, struggling to match the buttons and buttonholes of her shirt. “ _Mine,_  apparently.” She exhales intently once more, trying to swallow away the heat in her face. “Okay. Alright,” she sets her face even. She gestures to the desk, which is mostly tidy, save for their hastily discarded lunchboxes and the treatise stamped with the presidential seal that had brought Korra here in the first place.

 

“Alright,” Asami repeats, nodding towards the document. “Brief me.”

 

Korra leans her hands back onto the desk and looks at her for a long second, but her non-expression dissolves into a coy smile when Asami’s own face finally relents the pretense that they’re definitely ready to get some work done.

 

She raises her brow innocently and wills Korra to make the first move, make this her fault.

 

“Not fair,” Korra says slowly, biting her lip. She makes a light step forward and waits for Asami’s little wave of invitation before advancing to her in her chair. “You know that’s not fair.”

 

Asami remains silent, but she stretches the invitation just extended by brushing her skirt, moving her hands away from her lap to make space. Korra makes use of the space, folding a leg on either side of Asami’s and taking her face in her hands. She lifts her head.

 

Her eyes are dazzled with lust, Asami notes with the privilege of clarity. Korra brings her face closer slowly, with a restraint that Asami knows is only intensifying her need (poor irresistible thing), and bends to kiss her - hardly an inch or a second away when Asami decides to test her own audacity with a little whisper. 

 

“What’s not fair, baby?”  

 

The mouth that collides with hers is hungry and hard - if the softness of Korra's hands on her cheeks had caused Asami to think she was going to kiss her gently then it's possible her own impudence might have ruined it. Not ruined, _really_ not, but - oh... only now she feels how fast and shallow Korra is breathing. Her body blooms and contracts under Asami’s hand, and she focuses on the pulse of it, the warmth; until suddenly her hand is wrenched off Korra by firm fingers.

 

She barely has a second to transmit the question in her eyes before Korra plunges their hands into her pants. She sighs in unison with her - Korra murmurs, voice thick, “This,” pressing Asami’s fingers close with her own, “ _this_ isn’t fair.”

 

Asami looks back up at her with eyes made new by the warmth against her fingers - presses desperate, wet kisses to Korra's mouth again, compelled and deranged by the sight: soft, parted mouth, scratchy sigh, silk and scent and irresistibility of her deep brown skin -

 

Korra isn’t wrong. She isn't fair. 

 

 


	15. In The Brightest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asami taking Korra out to get some makeup for non-actiony public appearances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt fill for marikunin.

Dot, dot, sweep. She drew a gentle finger over her eyelid, raising her brow first for convenience; and then, when she noticed it, at the intent expression on Korra’s face. She glanced at the container in her hand to reload her finger, before turning back to the mirror and catching the eye of Korra’s reflection. It remained unchanged, still staring. 

 

Asami continued to dab at her eye. “What are you looking at?” 

 

“You. That’s relaxing,” Korra said obscurely. 

 

Asami’s brow climbed a little further.

 

Korra leaned forward, setting away the book in her hand, which had lost her attention a good while ago. “I mean it’s relaxing to watch you do that.” 

 

Asami gave a low laugh, rubbing her thumb and forefinger together to brush away the remainder of the powder. “Well. Don’t fall asleep, you said you would come out with me.” 

 

Ignoring her, Korra said, “Will you do mine? There’s that charity concert tomorrow, I think it might be nice to dress up for it. Bet the troupers would appreciate that!”

 

For a moment Asami didn’t reply, and not only because she was concentrating on her eyeliner. “You know you’re flawless without it. But… of course, if you want me to. I can show you -”

 

Korra snorted. “You can  _do _ me, I said.” She bit her lip and smiled. “That’s half the point, right? How nice it feels when you do.” 

 

Asami suppressed her smile, letting her head list to the side as she considered Korra in the glass. “That’s fine, too. But if you’re going to keep asking me to do your makeup, you should get some of your own. I mean -” She held up the little container of pink eyeshadow to illustrate her point. “This doesn’t exactly suit you!”

 

So what did? Korra concerned herself with the question on the drive into town, Asami working fast to meet every suggestion thrown at her.

 

“So yes to gold?” Korra repeated. “You don’t think that’s… too much?”

 

“Nope.” Asami laughed. “It would suit you so well; you’re all… warm.” She gestured to Korra’s brown skin and hair, taking a second to affectionately brush an unruly section out with her fingers. “And…”

 

“Intense?” Korra offered, roguish.

 

“... _ Striking _ .” She fixed her with a knowing look. “You kinda stand out no matter what,  _ Avatar _ .”

 

“Sure!” Korra said, quite happy with the fact. “Now, don’t laugh, but… is blue eyeshadow out of the question? Do they even make that?”

 

“No and yes!” Asami exclaimed, delighted by Korra’s willingness to go bold, though not surprised in the least. “Set those eyes off…”

 

Asami chose the boutique that they stopped at specially for its range - if Korra was truly invested, she deserved to be impressed. It had every item possible in every colour producible - arranged in columns and pyramids and stacked shelves; tins and tubes of things even Asami didn’t recognize. They spent a moment simply absorbing. 

 

“You know, not long ago, these tubes didn’t even swivel,” Asami explained as they examined an impossibly large array of lipsticks in formation like soldiers, “you had to push the stuff out to get more of it. Try this one,” she said, pointing to a cool red.

 

Korra was evidently impressed at the speed with which she had picked it out, but when she tried the colour on her nose wrinkled. “I don’t like it,” she said, rubbing her lip as she peered into one of the shiny mirrors that hung around the aisles at regular intervals. “ _ You _ like it, Asami, right? I think I prefer vivid on the eyes.”

 

That was an astute observation; and one that Asami had come to as soon as she saw Korra’s expression. She turned back to the lipsticks. “More natural, then?” She said, holding up two rich browns in her hands that Korra appreciated much more. 

 

Then, whilst Korra stood and carefully evaluated the rainbow of eyeshadows, Asami brought her some less exciting things to try.

 

“That’s powder?” Korra said, eyeing the item that Asami had presented her with mild suspicion.

 

“Cool, right?” Asami clicked the compact case open and turned it in her palm to show her. “They started packing it down so it’s easier to carry around - it’s this weird little pressing machine, I think they might have one here in this store… Anyway, I brought these as well, in case you prefer them.” She handed a couple of pan sticks to Korra along with the powder. “I’ve never actually tried them, it’s new, too. But it’s supposed to be an easier fix than powder.”

 

Asami had procured a few shades of each that she thought would match Korra’s skin - not as difficult in this store, thankfully, as it might have been elsewhere. “Lucky we’re here,” Asami said, blending a stick on one of Korra’s wrists whilst Korra took the other, “‘cause it’s harder to find these shades here in the United Republic.” 

 

“What, no cosmetics places in the Little Water Tribe?” Korra said, holding her forearm up to examine.

 

“You know there aren’t.” It was not something that had really taken off in the Water Tribe yet, not like it had in the United Republic. Even up here, there were still many that considered painting one’s face strictly a pursuit of certain professions, not that Asami paid any mind to that. But if there was any place for a commercial style revolution, it was Republic City; and the stamping grounds of its uptown youth, of which this store would certainly qualify as one.) The constant barrage of new beauty products was evidence of that. 

 

When they had distinguished the perfect pan stick shade, Korra picked her eyeshadows: gold and silver and brown; four little tins that she stacked before her with a satisfied smile.

 

“You don’t wear rouge, do you?” She asked Asami, taking stock of the stock compiled so far. 

 

“Not on the regular, no,” Asami said. Since Korra wasn’t looking at anything for the regular, they picked out a deep, earthy red one for her. 

 

There wasn’t anything else that Korra wanted - Asami told her she could use her eye pencils and liquids, since they were all much the same colour and she had more than a decent supply of them - but Asami had one last item for her. 

 

She swept a smidge of white lotion out from a small tub and rubbed it across Korra’s cheek. “This should keep your skin safe and fresh under that makeup. How does it feel?”

 

“It’s so light,” Korra said, placing her fingers where Asami’s had been. “Vanishing cream,” she read off the metal lid, reaching for more. “I gotta say, it feels a lot less  _ icky  _ than cold cream.” 

 

“Careful,” Asami said, watching her smooth a considerable fingerful into the same spot of skin, “you’ll vanish.”

 

Korra couldn’t have been more disappointed with her joke. 

 

No sooner had she begun to lead Asami to the counter than Korra stopped in her tracks. “Wait, I wanted blue eyeshadow!” 

 

“You think that I could pull it off?” She said, turning to Asami a minute later with a slapdash splash of colour on her eyelids. A sparkling aquamarine that didn’t quite manage to out-blue her eyes. 

 

“Oh, yeah,” Asami said, before giving a little shrug. “Well… you know, I don’t know if I’m the person to ask, ‘cause I think you’d be so beautiful in  _ anything _ . Not that anyone else’d be right if they disagreed.” 

  
Korra sighed in irritation, prodding her chest with her shimmering fingers. “You’re no help at all, are you? Least you’re paying for all this.”


	16. Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra dances for Asami.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for perpetual159 :D

She had no reason to be surprised, of course.

 

Korra was born to move. In a lot of ways - physically (that body of hers), mentally (that drive of hers) - and a lot of things (political agendas and civilian hearts; not one but four elements; mountains metaphorical and probably literal.)

 

So _surprised_ wasn’t exactly it, perhaps. But Asami was more than a little bit… dazed.

 

Today she had learnt that some traditional Water Tribe dances were ceremonial in the warlike way, comprising largely of stomps and powerful turns to the accompaniment of beats so deep and sharp they reverberated in every corner of your skull. Vigour was the key ingredient. Others - naturally - flowed like water. Fluid form, liquid leaps and twirls; wild grace equally in movements slow and fast; with sensuous, seamless manoeuvres bridging the two. Quite the contrast.

 

Korra was trying to show her the particular difference. And this was not a rigid ceremonial dance. This music slinked.

 

“So this,” she said casually, spinning as if compelled by an invisible force, as if balancing on your toes required so little concentration that she could have held a whole conversation (which… she could.) “Is one of those water dances. Very popular.”

 

Asami could tell as much. They originated from bending stances and moves, Korra had explained a while ago before jumping into her eager, very beautiful demonstration - which had been adapted into dance by non-benders: students of form and physicality and eventual artists. Water dances were built around the principle of smooth progressions, between positions that in any other dance might have been the main focus - but the beauty here, duly, was in the transitions.

 

“Element of change,” Korra quirked a brow, sliding deftly into an arching position on her back. “This… is meant to mimic a wave cresting…”

 

 _Uh huh,_ Asami thought, engrossed. She leant back on her hands slightly where she had perched on the bed.

 

Korra’s elegance was effortless, and that was the difference between hers and Asami’s own. She swept through a series of precise motions like it cost her no more than walking over to this bed might.

 

“It’s weird,” Korra was saying, “these are supposed to be so - uh - cultural, but…” Her head tilted upwards slowly, face serene, as she lifted her leg up into a pose that really should have hurt. Asami followed the line of tension in her shoulder, thrown back, as she glided out of the position and back onto both of her light her feet. “...They don’t often -” she set her gaze on Asami, from behind the curve of an arm that (rather alluringly) left only one of her eyes within Asami’s vision - “they don’t do these at ceremonies.” She laughed, a little bit breathless.

 

“Why?” Asami asked, quite endeared by Korra’s determination to verbally annotate this whole process, when Asami would have been on the delirious side of content just to watch. She reminded herself that this was supposed to be an educational endeavour.

 

“Well, they can be a bit,” Korra said, a hand draping delicately over her own abdomen. She raised a brow, enchanting. “...Sultry. You know?”

 

Not wrong.

 

Asami gave a pointed cough, returning Korra’s little smirk. “Oh, well, it’s a… very pretty dance.” Her head screamed a very different word, but Asami wasn’t going to give Korra the satisfaction of hearing it.

 

“I mean, there are variations of course,” Korra continued. “This…” whirling into another slow turn, with her legs bent in such a way that Asami was drawn instantly to the curve of her bare calves. “Is like… six on the scale.” Her head dipped backwards again, casting the warm sheen on neck into the light. "The sultry scale."

 

It would have been very nice if she wasn’t wearing that choker of a shirt.

 

“Show me seven,” Asami said, like she was conducting an experiment. And she was, in a way. She was testing the resistance of her own will against… this.

 

“Well, seven,” Korra said, low, bracing herself on her hands with her back in a supple arch again, accentuating the shape of her chest. She had got there in a turn so smooth Asami had barely noticed she was no longer standing, but that may simply have been because she was fixating on other parts. “Looks a bit more like this.” Korra finished. She surged in an agile motion into a sitting position, without using her hands, from which she practically rippled right back onto her feet; and Asami had to wonder at the sheer strength all this _poise_ relied on.

 

She released a little sigh and leaned forward, braving, “Eight?”

 

“Eight,” Korra repeated, dropping back on her knees, smooth as a cascade. She was rewinding to the half-moon that her back had made, except this time she curled and raised a leg into the air, and then out. The arc of her spine highlighted the dip and ridge of her clavicle.

 

“Nine,” Asami ventured, without waiting for the commentary.

 

Korra shook her head, so easy that it seemed to be part of the dance. “They don’t teach that at the schools,” she pouted, not very sympathetically.

 

Ugh. “You’re..” Asami tried, licking her dry lips with a minor, annoyed jerk of the head. “You’re supposed to be giving me a - comprehensive rundown, right?”

 

Korra fixed her with an expectant stare, over her shoulder, in the middle of a motion that had her body pivoted to display shamelessly just how far and well her limber waist could twist.

 

“Anyway, how do they learn this if they’re not taught?” Asami tilted her head, evening her breath.

 

Korra grinned. “Private lessons.” She pulled herself up and made to advance. “It’s, um, nine has to be… partnered.”

 

“Right,” Asami breathed, uncrossing her legs. She pressed them together again as Korra approached, to allow her to slide her own on either side of them.

 

“It can be like,” Korra began, weight on her knees, and Asami leant back to watch her face as she explained. She kept her clenched hands at her sides, as Korra leant heavily onto her crossed legs. “Like this,” Korra said, glancing down over herself - signalling Asami to follow as she slid her hands over her midsection, and over her chest, and over her neck - up until she her hands in her own hair, pulling every inch of her torso taut on the way.

 

Asami fought to keep the smile off her face, but she couldn’t not lick her lips. “Ten,” she whispered.

 

Korra pushed a gentle hand into Asami’s shoulder. “That,” she purred - then suddenly she was matter-of-fact, chin tucking, “is what’s called a striptease.”

 

Asami shook her head, mouth tight. She rolled her eyes, but they were falling heavy with desire in the same breath. “Ten,” she repeated staunchly.

 

Korra made no move, but she held her body in a lovely curve - perfectly still, though the way her breath came made her chest heave. Asami was inwardly vibrating, but Korra only looked down coyly, teeth grazing her bottom lip. She was having too much fun.

 

Not that Asami wasn't. "Ten," she demanded.

 

Korra's head tilted and she placed a couple of fingers to her own mouth.

 

"Ten. Please."

 

She held her breath.

 

“Fine.”

  



	17. Gentle Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Korra seeks Asami out after a trip to the Earth Kingdom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Request fill for ladymathgrad <3 She wanted to see Korra and Asami early in their romantic relationship

Korra shook her glider off and swept the water out of it in one furious motion, eyes already through the door of the new Future Industries tower. **  
**

 

It was raining cat dogs. On any other day she could have bent herself a bubble to fly in, but she had been barely a hundred yards from her destination when the clouds tore and the torrent crashed. And she was exhausted. It hadn’t seemed worth the effort, until she alighted in a puddle on the ground, until now.

 

She threw the glider over her shoulder and stomped through the heavy clear doors, not stopping until she reached the main receptionist, whereupon she crashed her palms onto the desk and made her request evident on her face.

 

The woman looked mildly alarmed. Korra wasn’t in the state to discern whether that was from witnessing the Avatar in particular run in here from nowhere, or seeing the disheveled, soaked, wretched-looking creature. (Probably a combination.) “Miss Sato?” The receptionist clarified in a curt voice, already at the phone.

 

In the elevator Korra slumped against the narrow wall and tapped an impatient rhythm with her glider on the polished wood floor. Asami had told her to go right up always, but Korra knew better than to surprise her in the middle of something tricky. She would take her up on the offer of apartment keys, though, because going straight there to crash right this very second would have been a far more appealing prospect at the moment.

 

She entered without knocking, since Asami would be expecting her. 

 

Asami was perched on the edge of her massive desk, on the side with the telephone; transmitter in one hand and receiver in the other. Her head flew up at the door - her eyes smiled and shone and grew a size, and Korra’s heart grew in return.

 

She was happy and not surprised to find that the sight of Asami enhanced her mood considerably. Korra felt the dull dragging weight leave her feet; sprung forward on them eagerly, making for the couch.

 

“Mm… Oh, alright? Well, that’s excellent, I’ll see you tomorrow…” Asami said hurriedly, all but drawing the transmitter away from herself.

 

Korra would’ve told her no rush, if the leather couch had turned out to be half as comfy as she was anticipating.

 

“Right. Right, I -” Asami stopped and exhaled through her nose, an impatient foot scuffing the carpet. She raised her eyes and smiled at Korra briefly, or what should have been briefly, until it was apparent that her attention had drifted far away from the call.

 

“Okay,” she said decisively, when she had found it again with a start (Korra grinned), “I’m so sorry, Bai, but my - the _Avatar_ \- is here and I have to go…” She held the receiver taut in her hand. 

 

Korra knew that the _Avatar’s_ behest sounded that much more demanding, but she couldn’t help but wonder how Asami had originally meant to end that sentence. 

 

Asami set the reciever on the desk - “Yes, you too! And get some rest, please, goodnight,” - and the transmitter followed.

 

She released a desperately pretty sigh of relief and laughed, as Korra sat up and extended her arms. “What does he want?” She said, when Asami had dashed forward into her them.

 

“Oh, you know. Bless his heart,” Asami said by her ear. (Korra did know. Bai was Asami’s endearingly keen administrative assistant, whose infrequent sick days only made him extra keen in compensation.) Asami squeezed her tight, and Korra burrowed against her, shuffling to extract the maximum warmth out of a very long hug. She could do a superior job warming herself, definitely, but there was something inimitable about _Asami’s_ warmth.

 

Asami withdrew and took Korra’s face by the hand, a light, searching gaze flickering up behind her lashes. Korra relaxed into the touch, though her heart stuttered a few beats. “Hey. Hi - oh, wow,” Asami said, the moment gone too soon, as she took in Korra’s wet clothes and disheveled hair. “You better dry off.”

 

The thought hadn’t even occurred to Korra. Was she just that exhausted? As Korra stood and bent the water out of her hair and clothing, Asami watched, leaning back primly against her desk again.

 

“I should get on that waterproof wingsuit, huh?” She said, eyes glittering - adding softly, “I’m so happy to see you.”

 

Korra nodded vigorously and not a little reproachfully, depositing the bubble of water she had gathered into the glass on the coffee table, the only suitable container she could find. “Sorry,” she giggled, as Asami shook her head. And then, “Presentable enough?”

 

“For what?” Asami's head tilted.

 

Korra smirked and gestured her around the couch. And once she had sat them both down she kissed her. Asami returned the kiss harder than she had anticipated, but after a second it eased back into something soft and lingering, until Korra had to pull her smile away from Asami’s.

 

Asami held on, kissed her cheek, pouring out her affections as she was increasingly wont to - whilst Korra… recovered. She wondered if she would ever get used to that and decided she didn’t want to. The fact that Korra could no longer even count how many such kisses they had shared - that, too, was quite a feeling.

 

The last couple of months had allowed her precious little in the way of free time, but she had given Asami the bulk of what she could afford: spare moments and meals, her quiet mornings and late evenings like this one. And some other things besides, that excited her to no end - but... Here they were at _last_ , and there just wasn’t any rush - for once in her life, one lovely thing in her life - they would do as _they_ did, and it would be simple, for once. 

 

Because Asami remained and would remain her haven. (Some things never changed.)

 

And Korra planned to continue returning the favour.

 

“You hungry?” Asami said, drawing away from her embrace.

 

Korra realised her stomach had rumbled. “Yeah. Dying.” She gave a pitiful pout.

 

Asami walked to her desk and returned with a takeout container in one hand and a fork in the other. “I don’t think this is very hot anymore, but most of it’s in there. I gorged on all this nice stuff at the meeting right before lunch,” she explained with a satisfied shrug.

 

“Well,” Korra smiled, taking both items from her, “at least you’re remembering to eat.”

 

Asami sat with her as she ate, doing nothing but watching, but Korra didn’t feel weird at all. She could see the tightness around Asami’s own eyes; and the way she stroked her forearms as she blinked absently, a little unconscious tendency of self-comfort that belied her own weariness.

 

Asami cleared her throat after a while. “Did you go to the Island?”

 

“Yup,” Korra replied after swallowing her bite. “Dropped my stuff off and briefed Jinora on the situation in the mining village. She said Su would be happy - they’ve pretty much sorted things with their old buyers. Told me not to forget about some well earned rest when I said I was heading to see you.”

 

Asami’s mouth twitched, and they shared a look that sparkled the air between them. When she spoke she was serious once more. “So it wasn’t bad?”

 

It took Korra a second to catch her drift. “Huh? Oh, no. No, actually.” This last trip had entailed a relatively simple venture, but she was still glad to see that the quarry which had become reliant on (overtaken by) Kuvira’s metalbenders had managed, once that all fell away, to reconfigure some sustainable trade agreements all by themselves. By and large, every next town she went to rescue, rally or simply report on appeared to be doing better and better. Korra swept a hand over her eyes. “See? Time heals.”

 

Asami blinked tiredly, placing a hand on Korra's forearm. “The only time that is gonna heal you, by the looks of it, is twelve hours in bed.”

 

Korra laughed through her yawn. “Take me home, then.”

 

It was Asami’s turn to blush, though Korra couldn’t tell why. “Okay, um, let’s go,” she said, patting her up quickly, before she herself lost all will to stand. “I’m gonna drive you to my apartment, make you some hot tea - run you a bath ‘cause you got caught in that awful downpour -”

 

“You’re gonna do all that?” Korra turned her head back briefly, watching as Asami leant to grab her bag from beside the desk. “ _Asami_. Run yourself a bath.” She waited for her to take her hand before continuing towards the door (and they would walk out of here hand in hand not for the first or last time.) “Unless you’re planning to get in mine, which - that’s also acceptable…”

 

Asami fought the flood of colour on her face, and Korra relished in it, slowing inadvertently to take her in. She was _so_ \- there was still something so adorably innocuous about her, unless that wicked skittish mood happened to strike her, which it was not about to at an hour, on a day, like this. **  
**

 

“Woah there,” she huffed, giving Korra’s back a light push, “wait til I tell Jinora _that_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda of the opinion that K+A wouldn't be in any hurry to Redefine their relationship, which it does not even necessarily need in a super formal capacity (apart from for others' benefit) given its firm foundations, esp amidst the intensity of rebuilding. They're probably sleeping over a lot and getting (a realistic amount of well-earned) it


	18. Blossoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a prompt fill for an anon for the line, 'close your eyes and hold out your hands' <3

Asami brushed a fallen leaf or two out of the lap of her dress and scooched forward. Ikki shuffled closer, too, and laid her book on the grass between them.

“...So what does  _ that  _ part do?” She stabbed a finger into the first character of her equation, pushing her lips into an intense pout that indicated an admirable amount of concentration (for her, at least.) 

Asami examined the page again. “So that is the number that multiplies your variables. You times this by that part -” She pointed fingers of her own, checking Ikki’s eyes to see that she followed. “...So to get back  _ here _ -” another stab, “we need to divide by it. Make sense?”

Ikki breathed out through her nostrils, peering down with her palms on either side of the book. Save for that, she was still. Asami waited, and began to lose hope - until all of sudden, Ikki’s head shot up again; pout transformed. 

“Totally! Thanks, Asami!” She clapped her hands together before using both to drag the book a few inches back towards her person.

Asami smiled. “No problem.” Ikki would accost her again in about two minutes. Hopefully not with the very same question  _ again - _  but Asami didn’t really mind, to be honest. She was patient and she was free. Enjoying a beautiful day on Air Temple Island, like she didn’t often get to; reveling in the incomparable pleasure of wearing a plain linen dress and nothing more serious, feeling like she'd uncluttered her head, or lifted it off altogether. Floaty, lightweight, breathable - that wasn’t just her outfit. The breeze helped. She blinked slowly against the sun. It beat down hard on this island, little shade aside from the few smatterings of trees; but they were parked under one such wooded copse this afternoon. Korra was playing with Naga, Rohan was playing with his brand new lop-eared rabbit, Jinora and Kai were... playing with each other, potentially, or whatever else they had wandered into the thicket to do. Asami had put her book down a while ago, content to simply rest.

 

At the sound of feet on the brush behind her, Asami made to turn. She was stopped a pair of hands over her eyes before she could. She tensed momentarily before unclenching with a smile.

 

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” Korra said by her ear.

 

“You’re already covering them,” Asami dismissed her innocently, suppressing the laugh that was bubbling up in her throat. She could practically see Korra roll her eyes.

 

“Close your eyes,” Korra repeated with a playful force in her voice, doing a commendable job of preventing any exasperation from seeping into it. 

 

Asami obliged. “Okay.” She lifted her hand, palm up, speculating about what was about to drop into it. A snack would be nice, a peach or some berries.

 

Korra took her by the wrist and pushed her flattened, upturned palm back into a loose fist with her fingers. “Oh, don’t get your hopes up,” she laughed. Asami heard Ikki giggle in the vicinity, too. She joined them, but now she wondered what it could be.

 

She felt a cool, feathery touch around her wrist and held her tongue. Korra fiddled at her arm for a moment, before giving her fingers a squeeze and releasing them. She signaled "alright" with a little sound, and Asami opened her eyes onto a delicate chain around her wrist wreathed out of starlet daisies.

 

She let that laugh bubble up.

 

The thin, creamy petals pointed out like little sparks. The stems, which she would have thought were too short for tying, were linked in tiny, neat knots. Asami lifted her hand to her face and breathed them in. “Ah, Korra.” She grinned. “What’s this for?” 

 

Korra had sat down in front of her. She placed her hands over her bare feet and leaned forward on them playfully, a gesture that betrayed the hint of embarrassment. “They go with your dress… Uh, it’s our anniversary, you know.” 

 

She was charming.

 

But Asami felt her own smile loosen in confusion. “Our…” She racked her brain in a rush, because it wasn’t like her to forget anything that could be labelled that at all; but the truth that she ultimately returned to was that she and Korra didn’t exactly have an anniversary. Maybe they should decide on one before the season was up. It was just that hey had simply... ended up this way, not quite at any placeable point in time. 

 

What was it? She directed a inquisitive frown at Korra, though her eyes still smiled.  Their first kiss, that morning on the pavilion? The first time Korra had said  _ girlfriend _ , and not _friend_ , when the woman on the dock had asked whose coat that was? When Asami had thrown her her second set of spare keys from the desk drawer, and told her to keep them?

 

She shook her head, coming up empty. “What anniversary?” She laughed again, dumbfounded, clasping a hard hand on Korra’s knee. “ _Korra!_ ”

 

Korra threw a subtle, stealthy glance at Ikki, who was still quite engrossed in her book, before leaning forward. She set a hand on Asami’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. Asami’s eyes widened briefly - then she rolled them in amusement and comprehension, shoving Korra off; because it was then that Asami realised she was playing her. Korra would not be of the mind to _bother_ to remember which particular day the first time they did _that_ was. She giggled deliciously as she fell back from the shove - Asami laughed loud and shook her head.

 

“Oh,  _ sure _ ,” she ribbed. “ _ Sure _ it is.” She certainly had the upper hand now, and she was not about to let this girl off. She raised an eyebrow and held her wrist up again, fingering the chain with her other hand. “No ulterior motives?” Then she pulled Korra forward again and pressed a kiss to her mouth before she could reply. 

 

“None,” Korra said unconvincingly when she drew back, undeterred despite her obvious embarrassment. She seemed quite at ease with being red in the face around Asami, even if she had probably expected this outcome all along, which was oddly romantic. “Honestly, seriously,” she said beside her cheek, as Asami clasped her hands behind her back to hold her in place, rocking her forward gently. “Really, I just thought it matched your dress.” She gave her lower cheek a lingering kiss, and as she threw her head back, Asami noted with amusement how pink Ikki’s face was behind her book.

 

She regarded Korra with mischief, and kissed her twice before saying, “Yeah? It’s a nice dress.” 

 

“You’re telling me,” Korra said with feeling, finding the space where her cheek met her ear again, “you look good enough to eat.” She froze for a fraction of a second, teasing, “Not like _that!_ Asami!” Admonishingly and very deliberately, though not fast enough for Asami not to splutter again. 

 

Her cheeks hurt. She took Korra’s face between her hands, and kissed her again, light to complement the lightness of the moment. And again, and again. Goodness, she was all warmth and fluid affection today, glowing in the sunlight. “Korra,” Asami murmured like she was admitting an indulgence, settling on her name over anything hypothetically sweeter; this time truly for her ears only. They kissed long for the first time, until finally a high voice drew them apart. “Hey. Hey, you  _ guys!” _

 

Ikki coughed pointedly and squeaked, “I need your help.” 

  
  
  



End file.
